


Little piece of Hell

by sorey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Black Eyes, Bullying, Crossroads Demon - Freeform, Demon deal, Demons, F/M, Revenge, Self Harm, Smut, Suicide thoughts, self hate, teen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3618849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorey/pseuds/sorey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alma (the reader) is a misunderstood teenager who suffers a lot of abuse at school. Her mother doesn't pay her so much attention either, and she fights the stronger as she can against depression after years of self harm. After suffering several "pranks" from her partners, she really wants to make them pay, but there is nothing she can do for that until she finds a book at the library. That book seems like a joke to her, full of dark symbols and weird things, but she decides to give it a try when she read about crossroads demons. She really expected nothing to happen,  but with dark things you're not always 100% sure...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alma

“Hey, Lady Darkness, why don’t you go home and drink some blood?”

“Yeah, Miss Vampire Diaries, I bet your spider pet will be waiting to laugh at you!”

The laughs of all the people in the high school corridor resound in your ears, your cheeks are burning red, so does your neck, blushing in shame for being the target of all the mocks proceeding of your partners. Your locker oozes pig blood, courtesy of your wonderful “friends” the popular girls. All your books, your notebooks full of writings and drawings, your sport clothes, even the coat you put in there until the end of the classes, are all messed up with the red liquid. You feel the tears burning in your eyes, wanting to go out, but you don’t allow them. No, there is too many people watching, waiting, laughing.

The bell starts to ring, and the laughs change into a general muttering with all of the students going back to their classrooms. You remain in the corridor, trying to clean all the mess the blood made. The stupid faces of Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers and Dawn Sanders still laughing in your mind for every dirty paper you throw to the bin. You’ll probably need to make away with all your notebooks, no matter how you feel about it. There is nothing to save. And the books… That’s what makes you angrier. The books hadn’t any fault, why did they pay for your status? That illiterate super-model-try with nothing but air in their brains may have not opened a book in their lives, but for you, books are your life.

You’re going late to class, so you’ll have to finish cleaning it later. You run to the ladies bathroom to clean your hands, all bloody red, after roll up your sleeves. Thanks to the hay brained girls, you look like you just murdered someone –which, in the other hand, you feel like you need to- but fortunately, your dark clothes will hide any possible stain. Yes, your gothic clothes are mostly the reason of your problem, but not the origin. Everybody has always made fun of you, since you were little, always preferring books friendship instead of other child.

After having your hands clean, you slide your fingers stroking your forearm, all the scars of the cuts you’ve made yourself during all those evenings alone. You roll down your sleeves again, hiding it. It’s been two long weeks since the last time you did it, and you’ve started to feel proud of yourself for it, but now, the weakness is starting to appear again. Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders. Their names cross your mind again and again and again. You shake your head and come back to the reality. If you’re not hurry, your teacher is going to be mad at you.

When you enter in the classroom, all the eyes are on you. The teacher stares at you awkwardly until you mutter an apology and go to your sit. You can hear all the rest giggling, but you try not to pay attention. When the teacher is back on the blackboard and you’re about to sit in your chair, Roy Patterson, sitting next to you, removes your chair with his leg, making you fall on your ass and, again, having all the people laughing of you. Again, tears are burning in your eyes, but you’re not going to give them the satisfaction to see you cry. Cindy and her court are crying, yeah, but of fun. You tighten your fists in rage, but you don’t say a word, as the teacher ignores what’s happening behind her.

Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson.

It’s the next day. You’re in the gym, your sport clothes on, with some red spots from the blood that weren’t able to clean. You try to ignore the new giggles that come from the rest of girls. You’ve assumed that it’s because of the blood, but you should have been warned from that. You feel some thick liquid going down from your hair and face, it’s dark, black, and it’s messing your clothes even more than before. Some guys of the rugby team of the high school are dropping a pot of black paint over you. It’s cold, dirty and it’s sliding inside your clothes to places you don’t want to think about. But that doesn’t end there. Again, Cindy Allen appears with a bag full of feathers and starts to throw them to you.

“Fly, little crow! Fly!” she shouts, making all of them laughing again. You turn to see who the ones who threw you the paint were. You recognize their faces, you know the names. Richard Finn, Josh and Jeremy Carver, the twins, and Oliver Tilly.

You run to the showers, without bothering to undress yourself first. The paint is not going to be completely cleaned, but you don’t have a choice either. You don’t want to hear their laughs, their mocks. The water slides all of your body and goes by the sink mixed in black and some feathers. Even when nobody is seeing you, you don’t want to cry. Crying is giving the victory to them, and you don’t want to feel like you were defeated. But every day you pass in that high school is a fucking hell, and you can’t wait the day you leave. It’s so distant… It looks like it never comes. All of them… If you could just make them feel like they do to you…

Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson, Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly.

Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson, Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly.

Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson, Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly.

Every name is impressed in your brain, accompanied by every one of their faces. It will be so easy if you had that fucking cool Death Note from that anime you saw time ago. But all you can do is to swallow it all, swallow your rage, your anger, your loneliness, your sadness… It will be really easy to have it all ended right now. Is not like you’ve never thought about it before, but you’ve never been brave enough.

Once at home and another shower later, you open the fridge searching for something to eat, even when you’re not hungry at all. You end up closing it again and laying on the couch, your face hidden in a pillow. It’s ten minutes later when you hear your mom’s car stopping and the main door closing behind her. You don’t bother to greet her, she never pays so much attention to you, and today is not going to be an exception. After she walks to the kitchen, leaves her purse and serves herself a drink, is when she walks to the living room and notices your presence at home.

“Oh, Alma, I didn’t know you were at home” she says, in search of a dvd in the shelve and turning on the tv, not bothering to give you a single look.

“Hi, mom” you answer, without removing your face from the pillow.

“Come on, don’t talk to me like that, it’s impolite. Look at people when they’re talking to you.” Said who doesn’t give a fuck about how are you feeling right now and hasn’t looked at you since she arrived. “How was your day, sweetie?”

You hesitate before telling her. She’s going back to the kitchen when you unhidden your face to talk “properly”.

“Cindy and her friends dropped black paint and feathers on me.” You follow her to the kitchen and realize that she brought a grocery bag with her.

“Sounds fun dear, I’m glad you had a great time with your friends today.” She really does not listen to you. Never. Now, she’s messing around the kitchen, starting to make some food. “Did you already eat?”

“Yeah” you lie, leaning against the door mark and rubbing your arm.

You watch her emptying the bag in search for ingredients and she leaves some chocolate bars on the worktop during the process. You’re not hungry, but chocolate seems a good idea in your mind. You grab one of the bars and start to open it when you get a slap on your hand.

“Alma! That’s not for you! If you eat chocolate your face will be full of acne.”

“I don’t care!” you say, really upset about the slap, stroking your hand.

“Don’t you want to be pretty?” she asks, not waiting for an answer. “Honestly, you’ll do better without all dark clothes you’re always wearing, and if you combed your hair out of your face instead of walking out there like if you were a vampire of those.”

“I like it like this.” You’re starting to be very anger, and that’s something very usual in your house, sadly.

“I’ll take you to shopping tomorrow, we’ll find something pretty to you.” She doesn’t really looks like she’s listening to you.

“I don’t need new clothes, mom, I need books.” You remember yesterday loss and your stomach twists.

“You can find those in the library, you don’t need them. We’re getting you a new beautiful dress and then you and your friends can go to the cinema or something.”

“Mom I don’t want to…”

“You’re seventeen, Alma” she says, changing her mood to a totally serious and anger one in a blink. That’s one of the things that scare you from her. She can be a little lamb, but the next second she could stab you in the face if you disturb her. “It’s time you start to do appropriate things to your age instead of being locked in your room listening to that horror music. We’re going.”

And you know the conversation is over. You walk out of the kitchen with your cheeks burning and wondering what her face would be the day she founds that you don’t have a fucking friend.

For now, the idea of going to the library doesn’t look awful at all, so you dress up properly –instead of being in that simple grey nightgown you wear for every time you spent at home- with dark blue jeans, black sweater, boots and your synthetic leather coat, grab your high school backpack and go to the garage to get your bike. You leave your mother watching tv while eating, she doesn’t seems to care about where you’re going anyway.

Bike rides always make you feel better, maybe because you use to go through the park every time it’s on the way and you like to hear the wind whispering to the trees. The library’s building is big, grey and old, double big wood doors that are hard to open and a bored librarian on the hall. It always smells wet and closed, dust at some points that nobody bothers to clean, but it’s always empty and silent, and you like to spend some time on there, even if you don’t go very often.

You go to the adults section in search for something good to read. The bookshelves are long and full of old and mistreated books. At least, they’re organized by type and topic, so you can go directly to the section you like the most: horror. There are tons of books of Stephen King, Agatha Christie and Edgar Allan Poe as the most famous, but there’s also less known writers and that’s something difficult to find. You walk shelve by shelve, reading every title of every book in search for something interesting, but nothing looks like that to you. Nothing until you see a black leather cover with no title on it. It seems older than most part of the others –in fact, you could say it’s the older book you have seen in there- so you decide it’s worth to take a look. You take it from the shelve with an unexpected effort.

There is nothing on the main cover either. It’s really weird. You decide to go to one of the tables to take a look. When you open it, it’s full of pagan symbols and others weirder than anything you’ve ever seen before, but still no title. You pass to the index –yeah, at least it has an index-, not sure if the book is being serious or not, with things like “pagan sacrifices”, “blood spells”, “witchcraft initiation” or “curses and hex”. Did you just find the fucking Book of Shadows or what? It’s weird, yes, but also the most amazing book you’ve had in your hands, so you take a look to the witchcraft pages expecting to have some fun, but it’s all in latin, and you don’t know a shit about latin. Disappointed, you pass page by page, searching for something that it’s at least in a language you can understand. Surprisingly, you find it sooner than you expected. The title of the page says “demons”, but there are types and types of mythical representations of evil in all around the world. Maybe it’s just like an encyclopedia or something. There are some interesting demons, especially in Mexican and northern pagan cultures, and others not so much, but the one that deserves a focused read is the ones located in your country. _Crossroads demons_.

“ _Crossroads demons are entities that make formal agreements with humans, granting any wish, whatever it is, in exchange for claiming their soul_ ” you start to read in loud voice for yourself. “Well, I know some people who should totally change it for a brain”, you say to nobody in particular, because there is nobody to hear you. “ _Deals made with humans are sealed with a kiss, and then the contract will be written invisibly on the skin of the person. The human in affair is given ten years until he or she has to renounce to their soul, which is sent to hell.”_

_Granting any wish, whatever it is…_

You shake your head. No, there is no way you’re selling your soul for any materialistic thing. But it says whatever it is… Does that… involve… revenge? You know demons aren’t the same as genies, maybe they’re willing to go farther. They’re demons, dammit. Of course they will. The question is… How desperate are you?

You laugh like you’ve heard the most hilarious joke. Seriously? Are you really thinking about that? Demons don’t exist, there is no way you could sell your soul for taking revenge on all of those idiots. You see that there is a way to summon a demon and everything, so, whoever who wrote the book was really inspired. You close it with a plunk, a cloud of dust going out of it. There’s no way you’re doing that.

Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson, Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly.

The names hit your mind like a hammer, making you stop. All the shame, the things they told you, they made you… No, no way.

Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson, Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly.

They deserve it. They deserve the worst end ever. Why shouldn’t you wish that?

Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson, Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly.

You’re searching for the page again. Is not like it’s going to work anyway, really? And if it really does, what do you have to lose? Your soul? Is not like you’re worth of having one.

The instructions to summon the crossroads demon are easier than you expected. Honestly, you don’t have enough blood to do a sacrifice or something like that, but it says that you have to bury a container with a picture of you, graveyard dirt, a black cat bone –where are you going to find that?- and yarrow at the center of the crossroads. Maybe the most difficult will be the black cat bone, but you’ll figure out a way.

You put the book in your backpack. There is no way you’re allowing anyone to see what books you get from the library. You go back through the shelves labyrinth and cross the door to arrive at the hall. The librarian seems as bored as she was when you came before, and doesn’t pay you any attention when you leave. The sun is starting to set. If you’re going to do it, it has to be right now, before you change your opinion. Is not like it’s going to work anyway. When you ride your bike to the graveyard, your mind is full working trying to figure out a place where you can find a black cat bone.

In your town is ridiculously easy to jump the graveyard walls. Is not your first time, you have to admit. Sometimes you like the solitude and silence of the place, it’s ideal for a reading, but you only come when it’s closed. No one can disturb you there. You don’t walk really far until you kneel on the ground and start to put some superficial dirt in an empty bottle of water you have on the backpack. It’s done in a sigh and before you expected you’re back on your bike riding home.

Your head suddenly makes a “ding”. When you were little, you used to take particular classes from an old woman who had a lot of cats in her house. On the chimney there was a small sized red leather box and she always had told you that there rests his really loved Ron, a really big boned black cat who had afraid the rest of them. She really didn’t bury him in the garden, so she kept his bones with her. You change the way of your bike and enter on Miss Hoffrey street and, some minutes later, you park it in front of her house.

The door opens after a short time you pressed the doorbell. Miss Hoffrey doesn’t seems to recognize you first, but when you force a polite smile, she smiles too.

“Alma! What a nice surprise. Come in, come in!” She’s older than the last time you saw her, her moves slower and she smells a lot like cat, the same as the rest of the house. You nearly have to cover your nose by instinct. “What are you doing here, dear?”

She’s guiding you through the hall until the living room, the place where you want to be. You look at the chimney, the red box is still there.

“I wanted to thank you all the efforts you put in me when I came here when I was little. I… I wanted to tell you that… Well, next year I’m going to college and it’s all thanks to you.” You don’t like to lie an old and lonely woman, but you have no choice. The truth is you didn’t think about going to college until now.

“Oh! Dear! That’s a wonderful new!” She holds your hands tight and smiles. “Let’s have some tea, we have to celebrate it!”

Miss Hoffrey walks slowly into the kitchen and you know it’s now or never. You go right to the red box and open it. It’s true that Ron was a big boned cat. The book doesn’t specify a concrete bone, so you take the smaller than you can find and put it in your pocket, closing the box trying not to do any sound. You sigh. It’s done, and the only ones who have seen you are all the cats.

“Do you want some cookies with the tea?” Miss Hoffrey asks from the kitchen.

“No, thanks, Miss, I should take it quick and go back home!”

Half an hour later, you’re riding home. The difficult part it’s done. You leave your bike on its place and enter at home. Your mom is asleep on the coach, tv on and a half empty margarita jar on the table. She likes to drink from time to time and after that she sleeps all the evening. Without making a noise, you go upstairs to your room. After closing the door, you turn on your laptop on the desk and meanwhile you search on it for the picture set you had to take for the high school ID. Is not like you take a lot of pictures of yourself, so that should be enough. After that, you search for the last thing you need. Yarrow. The plant, also known as devil’s nettle, has little white flowers and is very common, so you’re really lucky. Before you leave again, you take one little box you use to hide sweets from mom and empty it.

After closing the main door, the sun has already set. It’s dark and cold, so it will be better for you to do it better. You go back where you left the bike and, surprise, surprise. In a corner of the house, growing shyly, there is a little group of devil’s nettle.

You had to ride your bike during an hour to the one crossroads in the outskirts where nobody will disturb you. There is nothing there but fields and darkness. You make a little hole in the middle with the little shovel you take before you left your house and bury in it the box with your picture, the bone, the dirt and the flower. You don’t know why your heart is beating so hard, you’re repeating yourself that nothing is going to happen, that nothing will appear. You search in the darkness around you. Nothing. In part, you’re relieved, but disappointed too. There is nothing in the world that you wish more than revenge right now.

You turn back again to go to your bike and your heart nearly goes out of you. There is a man there, watching you with an enigmatic smile on his face.


	2. The price of a soul

The man has short hair, short beard and a very elegant black suit. He’s not very tall, and when he approaches to you, you realize that his eyes are brown. If you weren’t completely sure that nobody was there before –damn, you turned around yourself like five times searching for someone and you didn’t see nothing- you’d say he was someone who followed you until there. But he wasn’t. Your heart is beating so loud you could swear he could hear it too. You’re in front of a demon. A fucking demon. You must be dreaming, this can’t be true.

The strange man is still staring at you, waiting. He seems a lot older than you, maybe twenty years more, you can’t say, but one thing you have sure, if he’s a demon, he could be a lot older than that. It’s difficult to say, but there is something on him… He’s not like any man you know. Probably because he’s attractive and you’re used to the high school teachers that are more like comical characters instead of mature celebrities. Are you sure you didn’t see this man before on tv?

“Are you going to keep staring on me like that?” he asks, making you close your mouth and nearly jump on your spot. In this point, your head doesn’t stop to repeat ‘ _it’s a demon, it’s a demon, it’s a demon_ ’ and you should really be doing something, but your body is paralyzed. The man-the demon sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, how old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen? Aren’t you too much young to sell your soul?”

That offends you. You could have said a list of reasons for which you’re capable to make your own decisions and deals in this age because you’ve been forced to, but instead of that, you swallow and the only thing that comes out of your mouth is: “I’m-I’m seventeen…”

He snorts and rolls his eyes again.

“I should not worry about what you do with your soul, but damn, you’re a kid.” He has his hands in his jacket pockets, staring at you like if he was a concerned father. That confuses you, because you had understood that demons were chaotic creatures that enjoyed with pain and suffering. “Go back home and call me when your life is a true mess.”

Then he turns back and starts to walk away. You could have listened to him and went back home, you could have reconsidered all the selling your soul thing, you could have done so many different things that didn’t involve him but, for some reason, you want to do it more than before.

“Wait!” you say, making a step on his direction. He stops and turns to see you. You swallow again. There is something –yeah, maybe all that demon thing- that makes your entire body shake, but hell, every second that passes makes you being surer about your decision. “My life is… actually a true mess.”

You expected the man to roll his eyes again and walk away, like all the adults in your life do every time you want a little of consideration. You’re not a child, not anymore, and being sure about making the deal is the thing that proves it. The demon makes some steps back to you. Truth is said, he is very imposing and makes you feel very little.

“You know…” he starts, “usually those ones who summon me just for “give a try” and “see what happens” run away when I suddenly appear.” You can imagine the kind of people he’s talking about, drunk teenagers playing with dark stuff. Is not difficult to guess that he probably thought that about you. “But it’s still difficult to believe that someone on your age wants so badly to sell its soul.”

“Well… I would ask you to do it for free but I guess that’s not your style” you say it before you could think about it. Your full body tenses instantly but he snorts and laughs louder than you expected.

“Let me guess. You want a new car because your dad doesn’t want to buy you one. Or it’s a ticket for the next Iron Maiden concert?” but he doesn’t refuse again… yet. That’s a good sign.

“Please, I’m not that materialistic” you rub your right forearm, the one with most scars, and all the rage and impotence come again. Cindy Allen, Lily Andrews, Remy Gallagher, Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson, Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly. You’re sick of seeing them with their big smiles and laughing at you every time you enter in a room or see them in a corridor. They’re making from your life a hell since your secondary and you’re tired of all that. They made you wish you were death a lot of times, but why should you be the death one? You want them suffer, eye by eye. You want them pay. “There are some people…”

“Date for a prom dance? I forgot that one” he interrupts you. Is all this a joke for him?

“Far from it.” Is not like you’re going to the prom dance anyway. Your hand tights your forearm, you feel every one of the scars burning, claiming for it. “I want them dead.”

You’re not sure about what reaction you were expecting but that smirking face makes your body shiver. He makes a step closer, so you make another back. Even if he’s willing to make the deal, you don’t trust him. Not yet. He’s a demon, and demons aren’t popular for their reliability. But you want this, you want them pay, all of them.

“Now I’m listening.” His smile goes bigger and for some reason you start to relax. At least, he’s taking you seriously now.

“It’s been years since they’re making my life impossible” you say “and every time is worse, and worse. They make fun of me, they push me away, they insult me, they… They make me feel like I’m not worth living.” Your rage is starting to show in your voice, but you do nothing to hide it. You want him to feel what you’re feeling, to make sure he gets that you _want_ this and you’re not going to go back. “I want them to suffer, to feel what they’ve made me feel all this time… And after that I want them dead.”

The demon doesn’t say a thing during a moment and stares at you like he’s trying to see what’s inside. That’s a little uncomfortable, but you wait, patiently, until he decides to speak.

“So” he does a dramatic pause “you want the usual torture plus death offer.” You nod, not sure about what ‘usual’ means for him, but if there is someone who deserves any kind of torture, is that people. “For how many?”

“Ten.”

“Ten?! You don’t have soul enough to afford all of it” he answers. “The usual deal for this is one for soul. One.”

“Is this too big for you or what?” you ask, upset. You’re going to sell your soul, is worth for a good deal.

“It’s called business, my lovely dark lady” he calls you in a similar way they do, but there is no mock on it, and it doesn’t bother you as much as when the others do. “If I went murdering all the people my clients wanted for the same price, half of the planet will be dead. The rule is one death by soul. No exceptions. Take it or leave it.”

It’s not fair, all of them deserve the same fate. Why only one of them should pay for the rest? Every one of them deserves a punishment, every one for each scar you have on your arms, on your heart, on your soul. All of them have made you be the rancorous person you are right now, so thirsty of vengeance that even you’re going to sell your soul for it, for taste it. You take a minute to think about the offer. It doesn’t matter what’s the cost, you want all of them.

“What if I renounced to those ten years you give until you take the soul?” you ask, not very sure. He opens his eyes in surprise.

“Do you know what happens when the term is over?” you shrug in response. Your soul is taken, yeah, but it mustn’t be very painful to walk out there without one. “Is not like I’m going to be against of it, a soul is a soul, sooner or later, but do you really want to die that soon, kid?”

Your heart stops for a second. Death. Is not like you’re going to be alive the rest of your life without a soul, you’re going to die at the end. Is it worth it? Yes, there were some times you wanted to die so badly because of them, because everyone in the world but, are you ready for it? Every prank, insult and mock come to your mind, making your blood boil and your hand tight in fists.

“I don’t care, as soon as they suffer” is your answer.

You look to each other at the eyes for a couple of minutes. You’re decided to take it, whatever it costs, and if that means you have to die, you’ll die, but they will suffer.  At the end, he sighs and rolls his eyes. For the first time, he takes his hands out of his pockets, just to cross his arms on his chest.

“I’m willing to make a special offer to you because it’s been a long time since I saw someone with that determination for a personal “vendetta”, you know” that sounds good, really good, but you don’t want to make anything for sure until he stops speaking. “I’m going to offer my usual torture plus death offer for my usual price, your soul in ten years. For every extra death you want, torture included, I’ll rest a year to the term, so I’ll be sooner to take your soul. In this way, you’ll have time to reconsider all of that “I don’t care if I die if they’re going to suffer” thing. You understand?”

You think you’ve understood it all. This means the first death will be like “free” –not free, is going to take your soul anyway- and each other will mean a year less living. If your calculations are correct, you’ll still have a year if you kill all of the people who are on your list. Seems fair. You nod and he smiles.

“Then, deal?” he asks, offering his hand.

You’re about to take his hand for a shake, but you have one more question in your head, and you want to be sure everything is clear before doing it. You freeze your hand in the air and look at him.

“Will I be able to watch it?” you’re talking about the deaths, but he understands without saying it loud.

“If you want to.” His smile goes bigger and that’s a mix of creepy and charming.

You take his hand and he pulls you in his direction. He leans to you and kiss you without hesitate. Who would guess this would be your first kiss. It’s not warm, not tender, just a kiss, no feelings involved, but you have that twist in your stomach when he push you away softly. Then, pain invades all your body. Little cuts are all around your skin, you feel it and you watch it in your hands. You’re about to panic but then it stops and disappears.

“What was that?” you ask, confused.

“Your contract.” He makes sure his tie is properly done as you check your hands and arms in search of cuts but there is nothing. “When you’re sure of who you want dead, think about me, darling, and say the name.”

“What’s your…”

“Crowley” he takes your hand and kiss it, like a kind of mock. “King of hell, at your service.” He turns back and walks away some steps while you’re trying to assimilate what he had just said. King of fucking hell, he must be kidding. Then, he stops and turns to watch to you one more time. “I’ll see you soon, Alma” Then, he snaps his fingers.

_Tiptoe, through the window, by the window, that is where I’ll be…_

You open your eyes just to stare at the ceiling of your room. Your clock has started the alarm radio sooner than you expected, but the fact is that you were really tired this night. All your body is really heavy, is not willing to get up yet. In your mind there are some vague scenes of a dream in a crossroads by the fields, but that’s really far away, being buried deep in your mind.

_Come tiptoe, through the tulips with me…_

You rub your forehead, going to your hair and resting your hand on the pillow after it. Why are you that tired? You try to remember what you did last night but after going to the library it’s difficult to remember. There was a book. Yeah, you can remember that. And the book was weird, old… You are conscious about time passing because you still hearing the song playing on the radio –which you should turn off because holy shit it’s creepy as fuck- but you still being too tired for getting up.

_Knee deep in flowers we’ll stray. We’ll keep…_

You can’t be sure if the book was part of the dream or not. For what you can remember, you opened it, but there were parts you couldn’t understand because it was written in latin. It was all about old spells, witches and…

_And if I kiss you, in the garden, in the moonlight, will you pardon me?_

_And tiptoe, through the tulips…_

You slam the button of the radio, turning it off suddenly as you sit on your bed, breathing hard, your heart beating in your ears. You remember. You remember the kiss. Yes, the kiss, the demon, the crossroads, you remember all of it now. All of it crosses your mind like a really vivid dream. Your breath is going back to normal as you calm down. It was just a dream, just that. You have to relax. Those few minutes of silence really help to that. You picture in your mind the face of the man in your dream. A little deception grows in your chest and you’re not able to tell why, but in somehow, you’re disappointed about that didn’t happen.

“Alma! Get ready! I don’t want to go out late.” Your mother is knocking at your door and your heart nearly goes right to face the wall. Usually she doesn’t bother to talk to you until you’re in the same room as her, so you wonder what the hell she would want now.

“Ready for what?” you ask.

“We’re going to the mall, remember?” she answers at the other side of the door. “Try to not be so much dark, sweetie.”

You hear her steps going downstairs without waiting for an answer. You’ve completely forgot about the mall, and you’re not willing to go more than yesterday, but when something gets into your mother’s mind, there’s nothing you can do. You slide your feet out of the blankets and go barefoot around the room looking for something to wear. You go for the jeans you wore yesterday. They’re not dirty at all… Or that’s what you expect. When you look at it, you see dirt in the knees of the jeans. How did they manage to get that dirt? You throw them away and search for anything else you could wear, which it ends being black leggings with a black shirt with the face of a black cat on it. Your boots are dirty too, but that doesn’t bother you at all. When you’re going to take your wallet from the bag to put it in your purse, your hands touch a leather cover for something that should not be there but in your dreams.

With your heart starting to beat frantically again, you take the book out. The black leather cover with nothing on it looks at you like it’s mocking at your face. Shouldn’t be this in your dream? Did you… Did you really…?

“Alma!” your mother yells from the hall. That makes you drop the book on the floor with a fright. Like if the mere fact of doing it breaks a connection, you grab what you need, the wallet, the phone –even when nobody is going to text you- and the purse, and you run downstairs, forgetting for now all the facts related with the book in which ones you don’t want to think about.

There is no way you mother and you could arrive to an agreement in which dress you should buy. The ones she picks are too much “happy” to you, and the ones you choose are… Well, you mother doesn’t want even to enter at the store with you. She just stares at you awkwardly until you leave. You bet she’s starting to regret about going shopping with you. For now, you limit to walk by the mall’s corridor, watching at the showcases of every store. At least, there are a couple stores in which ones you both agree to not put your feet in.

“Why are you so difficult?” your mom says, more like she’s talking to herself than talking to you. “You were so easy to dress when you were little…”

“Mom, I was half naked at home almost every day, you only bothered to dress me when it was time to go to school” you remember it to her.

“But you were easier than now. I wish you could be that little puppy forever” she says, disappointment showing by all of her face while looking at you.

You don’t want to reply. There is no point to start to argue now, in the middle of the mall. She’s not going to admit she’s a bad mother because since you started to walk she didn’t pay you enough attention unless she had to criticize something. You remember how disengaged she was when her friends were around, and, oh, how she liked to victimize when you asked about your father, always saying that he abandoned you both before you were born, and that she was doing her bests to give you the better, but at the next five minutes you were completely alone at home with a frozen dinner because she wanted to hang out and “didn’t have” enough money to pay a babysitter. Maybe your dad abandoned you, but at least you could see the reasons for what he did. All of her boyfriends, in fact, did.

An hour after and full of bags –none of them contains clothes for you- you sit on a bench for a little rest. At this point, mom has given up in finding something you would dress and she would allow, so you’re spending the morning renovating her closet. You knew how the morning at the mall would end before it started, but you don’t say a thing. When she comes out of the last store she was in with a new bag of clothes, she looks at you, clearly unsatisfied, and makes you a gesture to stand up.

“What about something to eat, dear? I think we had enough for now.” She carries with some of the bags but it isn’t really helping you. However, a lunch sounds great right now, because you don’t remember eating anything since yesterday at breakfast.

You go to the first floor, where all the food places are. You don’t bother to give your opinion about which one would you like to go, your mother always make the decision, so when she chooses the little restaurant with terrace near to a Starbucks you know you’re eating there. She sits in a well placed table out of the restaurant and you do the same. Having a rest of carrying the bags and furthermore having something to eat will be like Christmas for you.

The waiter comes and you order water while thinking what you would like to eat. Your mother isn’t late starting to give you the talk about the calories you should and you shouldn’t eat in your meal but your mind is far away from that. This obsession isn’t new in her, and is not like you need to look what you eat, but she’s worried because “you don’t get a boyfriend” and she was already pregnant at your age.

Something distracts you from the menu. Some laughs you know very well and make your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way. When you dare to look, you wished to be fucking mistaken, but there are they, coming with a group of people in search for a place to eat. Dawn and Remy are the ones who arrive to the restaurant first, followed by Lily and Becky, who are laughing of a joke one of them made. The last one who appears in your view is Cindy. You feel rage burning inside of you, but there is something more. It comes to your mind, subtle at the beginning, but it makes stronger every second fraction. Memories are coming back, memories about a dream –no, is not a dream-, about a crossroads, about a deal, about a man… No. A demon.

You don’t call him but there he is. In the middle of the tide, like a ghost that nobody sees nor touches. He stares at you, you stare at him. Time seems to freeze for a moment of mutual comprehension. You know why he is here, he knows why he has come. Your mouth opens to let go a sound that it’s barely a silent whisper.

“Cindy Allen”

In the distance, the demon nods, a subtle movement barely noticeable. If you hadn’t seen it you would think it wasn’t enough. But you saw it. You know what’s going to come. The question is, are you prepared for it?

When Cindy first trips it looks accidental. Then, she trips again, her knees falling to the floor, unable to get up again. There is a scared look in her face, eyes completely open. The rest of the girls notice it too late. Cindy’s legs aren’t moving anymore, blood going down through them coming probably from the spot between her legs. Is not the only place she’s bleeding from. There are deep cuts in her arms, you recognize every single scar you have, now they’re cut deeply in both of her arms, and after seeing that is when you realize you have cut your thighs too, so it’s from there where the blood in her legs come.

Cindy’s friends start to surround her, people in the restaurant start to panic, but you stand up from your sit, ignoring the scared moans of your mother. You want to see this. You’ve waited for this, you’ve _paid_ for this. If you’re going to lose your soul for her death, be sure you’re fucking seeing it.

A man starts to pull away the other girls, trying to give Cindy the space she needs to breathe. Apparently, the man is a doctor, or at least knows something about medicine, because instantly starts to press against her cuts. You worry at the same time you are upset. You don’t want anybody to save her. If she doesn’t die, there is no deal, isn’t it? But the concern lasts little. Cindy starts to cough frenetically, unable to breathe. Dark trickles of a dense liquid start to fall from her mouth. You recognize it instantly as the black paint they throw you yesterday. It’s curious how satisfactory it can be, watching it from your perspective. You like that the demon –Crowley, has taken enough worries in that particular death just to have you “happy” with your deal. The best detail that touches you so much comes when Cindy starts to cough a feather after another. _Fly little crow, fly_. Her voice and giggles sounds with echoes in your mind. You try so hard your smile doesn’t show in your face, but internally you have a smile from ear to ear.

Cindy falls to the ground, eyes and mouth still open. There is no life in her body anymore. There are screams around you but you don’t really listen to them. Your mother is petrified in her sit, watching horrified the poor show that all that became. You watch the body with a cruel satisfaction. If this is the price for your soul, damn it, you’ll pay it a thousand times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Tiptoe through the tulips, Tiny Tim


	3. Connected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNOUNCEMENT: sorry guys, my laptop is broken (and dead) and I barely can get one to transcript what I handwrite, so maybe the time between chapters will be longer for now. I’ll try not to be more than 3 weeks without updating, but I can’t promise. Sorry!!

There is a lot of fuss in the next moments. Cindy’s court is screaming and crying, being full in panic and terror. Remy can’t stand all the pressure and faints dangerously near from the dead and bloody body of her friend. Security men arrive and try to make order and keep the curious away. When you’re able to put your eyes out of the blood, you look at your mother, who is still petrified, pale as a paper, eyes lost in all the confusion. You turn again to see the show, still feeling the adrenaline all through your body accompanied from that satisfaction, well, it’s more than satisfaction, that refuses to leave. Is not only having Cindy already dead, but having all her friends panicking and suffering right in front of you. It’s delicious.

God, it feels so good.

Someone grabs your wrist and you see your mother getting up with a sick face. All the hunger she could have has vanished now. She starts to take the bags of your morning shopping and gestures you to do the same.

“We’re leaving. I don’t want to see anything. I’ve seen enough.” She looks hurry, and you can’t blame her, but it’s the first time you see her like that.

“Mom, are you ok?” you ask, taking the bags too. “Are you sure you can drive like this?” Well, maybe you don’t want to leave _yet_ , but there is nothing wrong with being worried about your mother, right?

“Don’t QUESTION me Alma, we’re leaving!” She starts to walk quickly to the stairs, which are empty because everybody is around the body of the girl who started to bleed without any apparent motive, and you wonder when you did question your mother in the few seconds she lasted to make the decision.

The drive back home is really silent and tense, and when you arrive, your mother goes directly to the bathroom. You know what is exactly going on, so you go right to the kitchen and put some water in the microwave while search for chamomile in the infusion box. When the water is ready, you put the little bag in it and you leave it in the table to cool so your mother can find it when she’s done. Now, you want to be alone, so you go upstairs.

Once in your room, the heat of the moment comes back again, stronger this time. Now that nobody is watching, you can laugh, an insane laugh that comes from the deepest place in your heart, followed by the pleasure of watching the one you most hate falling on her knees in a patch of her own blood. You collapse on your bed, face down and hidden in one of the pillows, trying to suffocate the maniac laugh that is coming out of your mouth. There is a tickling running through your body, but especially persistent in your lower feminine parts. That’s one you know too well, and you see no reason to ignore it.

You turn to grab the remote control of the stereo you have in your room and turn it on, Lacuna Coil starting to play at the moment. Music can just improve this moment, and also hide any noise you could make. You move until you’re laying face up, your back against the mattress, and you let the tickling take control of your senses. You abandon yourself to your instinct, your hand going immediately to your clitoris, rubbing it in all the ways you like. Your mouth opens as you let a pleasured groan go every time your finger touches a spot and you’re watching Cindy being hurt and scared. Her face, her cuts –your cuts-, the black paint, the feathers. Everything. The pleasure is bigger as your hand moves faster. The fact that someone did that for you, because you _asked_ for it, makes it feel even better. Maybe –you won’t admit it- the face of the responsible demon comes once or twice to your mind, helping you with the task. Just maybe. A little dark secret added to the collection. The scared look in Cindy’s eyes is in your mind when you finally come. It’s a dark ecstasy which nobody should know about. You enjoyed it, but maybe there is still a little sane part inside you, very little, worried about what you just made.

You stare at the ceiling of the room a little more. You’re more calmed, but adrenaline is still infecting your veins and breath. You’ve never felt this intense before. It’s five minutes after –or ten, or twenty, you don’t exactly know-, when you go to the bathroom to wash your hands and refresh your face. Cold water works quite well, now you’re going back to normal, maybe a little happier than before. You think about it again, how easy was, how sadist, how _satisfactory._ If there is something worthy about selling your soul, must be this feeling. When you look at the mirror, you barely recognize yourself with that big smile on your face.

You still hearing your mother throwing up in the bathroom downstairs when you go to the corridor again, so you guess she’s not completely recovered from the shock yet. She’s all grown up, you don’t see any reason to go with her, so you go back to your bedroom.

You nearly faint when you see that is not empty.

“Hello, Alma” Crowley is there, with his usual suit and hands in his pockets. He grins at you and you try not to think how stupidly cute you find it, because if he’s here, must be for a really good reason. “For what I know, you enjoyed really much the show for what you paid that high price.”

You look at him, confused and starting to worry. You’re not going to say that you’re scared, but damn, you didn’t talked to him since last night when you…

“Have you come for my soul?” you ask. He snorts a laugh and you frown at that.

“I’m a man of word, I won’t touch it until the term is done. Or sooner, if you want me to kill someone else.”

“Then why are you…”

“I always make a service poll with my customers at the end of the service. You know, quick service, originality, creativity in the methods, customer’s attention… I’m kidding.” He has to add it when he sees you frowning deeper. In your defense, you’ve got to say you never expected demons having sense of humor. “I’m here to make sure you liked my work. As an artist, sometimes I want some appreciation. Eye for an eye was the topic of my thesis. Did you like it?”

“A complete masterpiece” you say, finally grinning at him back, your body relaxing for the first time since you arrived at home. “How did you know where I had all my scars?”

“The deal” he shrugs with the answer. “Once it’s made, it creates a bond, a permanent link between the demon and the customer. So, yes, before you ask, that means I know everything about you.”

There are a couple of things about that that start to worry you. Maybe is that little concern inside your head which causes the dizziness, who knows. The room starts to move and your knees touch the floor before you realize what’s going on. It lasts little, but is enough to have Crowley by your side, grabbing your arm and helping you to get on your feet again.

“Damn it, kiddo, when was the last time you ate something?” he asks with not a really worried voice tone.

“Yesterday… At breakfast.” You grab his arm back until you realize this is your first touch since-since he kissed you last night and you let him go immediately. You don’t want to admit that you’re blushing.

“Is past noon” he says, rolling his eyes. “You should take better care of yourself. You’re young, I don’t want to take you before time.” You nod, confused by the fact that he’s actually more worried about you than your mother uses to be, and he’s not worried at all. He stares at you, not in an uncomfortable way, and sighs. “Let’s eat something.”

He snaps his fingers and you’re not in your room anymore.

Instead, you’re in front of a little café you’ve never seen before in the middle of a fucking city. You try to locate it, but you have no clue of where you are.

“Vancouver” Crowley says. You open your eyes in shock and look around.

“You brought me to _Vancouver_?” you ask, trying not to do it in a loud voice. “Why? What was wrong in going to somewhere in the village?”

“Somebody could see us.” He shrugs again and opens the café door for you. His eyes are serious, but he’s like that kinda always, so you don’t know if it’s a new expression on his face or his usual one. “You don’t want anyone relating you with me, believe me, it’s safer. I’ll bring you back after you eat. I promise.”

There is something more behind this, you’re sure, because seriously, Vancouver? But you don’t want to ask, maybe because you’re afraid of the answer. You enter on the place and he follows you until the table you choose near the window. A waitress immediately comes to attend you, a shinning smile on her face that for some reason you find really disgusting.

“I’ll have some whiskey, thanks, but my niece might have something more solid.” Crowley talks without hesitation. Both, he and the waitress, look at you, waiting for your answer.

“I… uh… I don’t know, maybe a burger?” Is not like you’re hungry at all, but you know you have to eat. Is not the first time you’ve been this long without eating and you know how a bitch your stomach can be cheating you.

When the waitress is gone, back again with Crowley’s drink and gone again, you can’t hold it anymore.

“How did you do it?” you ask, impatiently, a stupid grin showing on your face. Crowley raises an eyebrow while he drinks. “I know it’s a kind of magic, and you’re a demon, but is there a way to learn that?”

Is not like you’re thinking about becoming a witch. Well, maybe a little. Maybe a lot.

“If the King of Hell doesn’t know how to punish and make people suffer by the time he’s doing a deal, what kind of king would I be?”

Your breath is gone for too many seconds. You have to force yourself to breathe again. Did he just say “king of hell”? You’ve been hanging with the fucking King of Hell??

“Save your words. Yes, I am. No, you don’t need to kneel.” He says, grinning a little.

“It’s impressive.” You afford to say.

“I know.” His grin goes bigger and he takes another sip from his drink.

The waitress comes with your meal and a drink you didn’t order but you accept it anyway. You look at the food. It’s probably the most delicious thing you’ve ever seen or taste, and you’re sure your mother won’t allow you to eat it. This is getting better for moments. After a few bites and Crowley drinking in silence, the talk comes back.

“Did you know what I was going to say because of the bond you mentioned before?” You’re quite curious to know about that fact, and since it’s going to affect you more than you would like, you feel like you’re in the right to ask.

“Your face, mostly. It was not that difficult to see.” Is a mock, you know it, but is the first one that makes you smile at the end. This one doesn’t _hurt_.

“How funny. Why do I not feel anything from you? Is not fair you’re getting things from me and I can’t get the same.”

“The bond is mostly for the human. It works in the other way too, of course, but only if the demon wants to.” It’s a logical and valid answer, but it still leaves you unsatisfied.

“You’re not going to allow me to feel a thing, are you?” Maybe you’re crossing a line with this, but you’re really curious about it, how a demon feels like. Is something you can’t do every day.

“Why would I?”

“Satisfying my curiosity.” You shrug and stare at your food, eating some while trying hard not to blush. “Is not like human feelings, I guess, isn’t it?”

He hesitates a little before nodding and drinking again. There are some minutes filled with silence while you finish your meal. You still wait to him telling something more, but he seems satisfied looking at you all the time. He’s finished his drink, and since he’s not ordering another, that could mean you’ve finished in the café for now.

“You did not bring me here just for a meal.” Is not a question. He shakes his head, apparently satisfied about you bringing up that thing.

“You’re smarter than you look. No, I’ve came for more than a courtesy visit.” He looks around to be sure nobody is listening, even by accident, while you wait, expectant, until he continues. “For what I know, you didn’t find the way to call me by other people, did you?”

You shake your head. “I found a book in the library…”

“ _Red moon_ , the guide book for the beginners in dark arts, also known as the book without title. I know about it.” He leans over the table to be nearer to you, and you do the same so he can speak lower. “Hide it.”

That leaves you confused and frowning when you both lean back.

“My mother never steps on my room, why should I hide it?”

“Because an hour ago I was in your room and it was still on the floor. You should be more careful.” That’s true. You dropped the book that morning and you left it since you were in a rush to leave. But there is still no worry. At least, for you to know. “Hide it somewhere it can’t be found accidentally.”

“Is a kind of forbidden book or something?” you ask, really wanting it to be. It would make everything more interesting.

“Don’t be that enthusiastic, kiddo, I’m just being cautious. Be sure nobody finds that book.” He points you with his finger. “The kind of death I gave to your friend is not really “natural”, and someone finding a book full of dark symbols and spells is not going to help you.”

You nod, but is not really a big deal to hide it from people. Nobody comes to your home, nobody enters to your room, is the safest place it will be. After this, Crowley rests his back in the back of his chair and stares at you with a mysterious grin on his face.

“Now, what about discussing the rest of our deal? Are you sure you don’t want to re-think all of it?”

“Are you going to give me a better offer?” you ask, not sure about what he wants with this.

“No” as you expected.

“There is nothing to re-think, then.” You’re firm. It still sucks you have to renounce to another year for each life you take, but you want them dead.

“I was expecting that” he shrugs and grins more, making you being more curious about what he really wants. “What a waste of existence, isn’t it? A young girl, a long life to live…”

“I don’t swallow all the “you’re a teen, you’re young, you have a lot to live for” crap. Is there a point in all of this or…?” you’re starting to be impatient, and this is a topic in which one you have nothing more to say about.

“I like your attitude. You’ll be a good student.” His smile is bigger than before, and that should be disturbing coming from a demon, but you find it attractive, magnetic.

“Student? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve sold me your soul. What do you think that happens to the souls we buy?”

You don’t need to think about it a long time before you answer. “They go to hell.”

“Clever puppy. And you know what happen to them when they’re there?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “They’re tortured during years and centuries. And after that, they became demons. Like me. Like you one day.”

That leaves you without a word in the mouth. Sure, you knew what was going to happen to you when the term was over, but that was something vague on your mind, a little consequence of the really good feeling you achieved with the deal. Now, having it clear in front of you, makes you feel a twist in your stomach you wish it wouldn’t be there.

“This is the true reason I came for. Your soul is sold, no matter what you do now. You’re going to go to hell. Yeah, so sad, all that, _but_ …” he grins at you again. “Since you enjoyed that much the death of that cheerleader-attempt, I’ve thought about bringing you with me the next one you want someone death and help me with my… next art piece.”

You have to think a little more until you realize what he’s talking about. He wants you to help with the next murder. Is a true temptation but…

“But that doesn’t makes worse my situation in hell after that? Besides, I’m _paying_ you with another year of my life so you’re the one who has to do it.”

“I know, I know, but that’s the point I wanted to arrive. I’m impressed by the joy you showed with the first death. In case of revenge, you could enjoy even more if you participate on it. It’s the kind of joy a pre-demon shows when we allow them to torture their first soul. That makes me think you could step over the entire torture thing and become directly a demon after I take your soul away.”

You need to breathe because holy shit.

“A _demon_ …”

“Yes.”

“You said a _demon_ …”

“Yes.”

“And when you say demon you want to mean _demon_ …”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, kiddo, I thought you were smarter…”

“I just want to be sure!” you say.

“I’m offering you an easy way to go from point A, losing your soul, to point B, becoming a demon” he explains again, starting to lose his patience.

“But why?” You can guess this isn’t something he uses to offer to everyone, not talking if he ever _did_ it, so you still have some doubts about it. Why? Why now? And why you?

He shrugs before answering.

“This is the first time I got the reaction you had –you know what I’m talking about” that makes you blush a little, because yes, you know about what he’s talking. “I find it really interesting. Of course, I’ve found sadist people all around the world, but this is not about that, this is about something different you have. It’s called potential, you just have to let it go.”

Seems simple, easy, a really good offer. You can be the last one they’re looking before they _die_ , before you _kill_ them after _torturing_ them, making them pay, and in change of that, your soul will not be tortured in hell… It just will become a demon instead. You should take more time to think about it, a couple of days, or one, or just some fucking hours, but you have revenge infecting your common sense, and a good offer like that is difficult to resist. Maybe with your mind clearer you would find any trick hidden in such a _great_ offer, but now, stomach full of food, the good feeling of having Cindy dead and that enormous temptation he’s offering you, it makes easier the choice inside your head. The grin you make shows the obvious. He grins too.

“When are we started?”


	4. Famulatus

Chapter 4 - Famulatus

As if it was a cruel joke from whatever god exists –or, as far as you know, it could be a joke from the _devil_ himself- the next day, Sunday, is really sunny, a peculiar contrast with the current situation at the graveyard. A lot of people is reunited to say their last goodbye to Cindy, most of them family and her high school friends, included the court of wailers who accompanied her last day. You’re there too, watching from the distance, not a single smile on your face even when you’re dying for it, you don’t want anyone having their eyes on you. If you’ve come is for make sure everyone on your list is there, watching their own future without knowing it. They’re all there except for Remy, who seems not to be fully recovered from the shock, but you don’t care. She already was weak enough yesterday fainting in the middle of the scene.

Your mother hadn’t been able to wake up from the bed. It’s obvious she didn’t want to come to the funeral and you can’t blame her after what she saw. It would be difficult for anyone who has watched the incident to face the dueling parents, and since she’s not very well related with any student’s parent mostly because she doesn’t go to the meetings, is better for her staying away from all that. In any case, you enjoy the sun at the graveyard. One of your favorite places is going to be more special from now since it has Cindy buried in it.

Is not that sunny the next day when you go back to the high school. The rain has come firmly at the beginning of this new week, something you love and is usual for this time of the season. Autumn is, from far, your favorite one. High school corridors are decorated with black ornaments all along them and you can find at every short distance a yearbook’s picture from Cindy. You’re starting to be upset and regretting of what you’ve made when you step with another one for the billionth time and you roll your eyes before entering at student’s delegation. Now that she’s gone she’s everywhere. When are you going to stop seeing her stupid face?

Remy is still missing in all the classes. You’re damn proud of yourself for being the responsible of that. When you made the deal, you were only thinking about how you would feel taking your revenge and you didn’t think of how the first death was going to affect the others, and now that you do, you can’t wait until the next one and see the effect. But Crowley has told you to be patient, two weird deaths in a short time period would be suspicious and someone could notice, even skeptical people could start to suspect. You have to be more subtle than in that movie “Final Destination”.

As you expected, at the end of the day there is a speech in Cindy’s memory at the gym. You’re about not to go, but is very tentative watching again all the pain faces of her friends. You make sure to be sited somewhere discreet. Wearing jeans and a black hoodie helps, comparing with your usual clothes. You chose those ones because of the rain and having to ride your bicycle to the high school. Everybody is paying attention to every single one of those who speak, telling how wonderful Cindy was, helping the ones who have more troubles when it comes to study, granting a smile to everyone who walked by her, trying to integrate everyone to her friends’ circle. You look around to see the rest of faces. You can’t be the only one who doesn’t believe all those _lies._

 Cindy’s parents are there too, listening to every good word about their daughter. She’s bursting in tears every time, but he’s standing face-stoned, the same expression during all the speech. Cindy didn’t have any sibling, which is really curious, her family owns a lot of money and they could totally afford rising another kid. Maybe her mother can’t anymore, maybe her father, or maybe they just wanted one kid, but that just doesn’t fit you. You don’t have any siblings because your mother is still being a bad luck Brian with guys, and she’s still saying you were really hard to rise –hard because she couldn’t find a babysitter every time she wanted to hang out- and she thinks you didn’t go well enough.

After the sixth person telling how a wonderful member of the student’s delegation she was – _lies, lies, lies_ \- you leave. You can’t stand all of them being this false. The wonderful sweet taste that Cindy’s death had left on your tongue has now turned into bitter. She didn’t deserve having all this attention when she was alive, neither now when she’s death. Nobody but you will remember who she actually was, what she actually did.

“Alma!” you’re untying your bike when you hear someone calling you. When you turn to see, Jason Collins is walking in your direction, a paper in his hand. You’re not used to people calling you and wanting to have a normal conversation, so your first impulse would be run, but you don’t. You know who he is and what he wants, is not a threat, but that doesn’t quit your body going tense. “You forgot taking your schedule.” He brings to you the paper with a soft smile. “We’re starting tomorrow, don’t forget it!”

You mutter a “thank you” and he goes back inside. The schedule is for the extracurricular latin group in the high school. Since Crowley has decided you could join him in the next murder, you want to learn all what is in the black book, so the first thing you did in the morning was going to the student’s delegation to join the group. Jason, a not-usual-popular guy, really good student, athlete, chief of the latin group and actually kind person, was the one who made your papers and promised to bring you the schedule when it was ready. Is not difficult to see why half of the high school has a crush on him. He has really nice grey eyes and beauty face, brown hair, good arms and even nicer back… It’s surprising he’s still being kind to everyone instead of becoming one of the typical popular guys and joining them in their pranks. Also, surprisingly single. He could have any girl he wanted, but he has none.

You go back home, half the way started to rain again but not as heavy as this morning, so you don’t get really wet. Maybe the day didn’t go how you expected, but it could be quite worse. At least, nobody except for Jason has noticed you, which is the best you can expect. Is sad it has to be on this way.

The week passes quick, the mourning at the high school last for the first three days and then is back to normal. You go for the latin classes the three days the group meets, but beside that you go in your lunch breaks to the library. In all that time, Crowley doesn’t show up, neither contacts you, so you try to do your normal life. Crowley’s absence doesn’t avoid you taking another look to the book. You’ve hidden it in a drawer, since you don’t think you don’t have to hide it _at all_ , but you make sure your mother is not going to disturb you when you try to read and translate what is written on it.

With three latin classes, two hours each one, it’s difficult to understand what every word means, but you’re patient, you search for every word you don’t know until you’re tired or you’ve decided that’s enough.  For the weekend, you’ve translated how to be initiated at witchcraft and the title of some of the spells. You’re anxious about giving a chance to any of them, so you’re going to one that looks easy. _Famulatus_.

For what you can understand, it’s a servitude spell. It isn’t a big thing, since it is at the spells for beginners section, but anything good is welcome. It says you will need red apple seeds –you remember have seen one of those in the kitchen- a red ribbon, strands of your own hair and strands of the other person’s one. Since you knew from a couple of days ago you’ll need little bags for every spell, you’ve prepared some clothe slices for that purpose, so that won’t be a problem. The deal will be taking the hair from the other person.

The next day –Monday- you make sure there is nobody in the corridor before you force Remy’s locker and take the strands from her hair brush. You bride it a little messy with your own, just enough to keep it together, and put it inside the bag with the seeds and tie it with the red ribbon.

“ _Famulatus_ …” You whisper to the bag. You’re supposed to hide it near Remy, so the first thing you think is to put it inside the locker itself. You leave it at the very bottom, after some books she has inside which don’t look like they’ve moved so much.

You don’t have to wait really much to see if that works. You’re in biology class, Remy is sitting next to you, the spot assigned to her by the teacher at the beginning of the semester, but she’s not paying you any attention. You don’t want to make it really obvious in case it doesn’t work, so you go for an easy try and ask her for something she could do but she usually don’t.

“Can I borrow your pen, Remy?” you ask lower enough for only her to hear. She usually won’t give you even a “good morning”, so this will show if the spell worked or not. First, she makes a disgusted face which makes your stomach twist in anxiety, believing that it didn’t work. But then, her expression starts to change to one of confusion and after that a zen one, like a trance, while she search for a pen and hands it to you.

You smirk as you watch the pen on your hand. “This is going to be so much fun…” you whisper to yourself.

The reason for why you chose Remy is that she is the weaker one, and you needed a weak mind easy to manipulate. Remy is perfect for that. After three days of missing school, when she finally came back, she bursted into tears almost in every class having a panic attack. She was really affected by Cindy’s death, so that makes her the perfect guinea pig. During the day, you test how far does she go for obey you being as discreet as possible. She does _everything_ you ask her for. She gives you her best lipstick, carries your bag when you’re in the bathroom –making sure nobody has followed/watched you both being together because that would be damn suspicious-, gives you her lunch money, all that little things she would be mad before giving it to you, Remy does. All what she does is staring at you like she’s not there, because she really isn’t. But then she talks with the others like she’s back to normal, so nobody suspects a thing.

You still test her during all Thursday. During the pauses between classes you interrogate her in the corridor. You make her tell you about the dirty secrets of her friends. Becky has two more years than she tells to everybody because she failed two courses. Lily has slept with both Carver twins and none of them knows it. Dawn passed all her exams last year doing “private oral exams” to the teachers, and Remy herself has a crush on Lily she’s trying so hard to hide. Nothing of this surprises you, but creates a little pleasure inside you. Maybe Remy being lesbian is the only thing you couldn’t guess. You know why she keeps that like a dark secret, all of her popular friends are a bunch of homophobic douches and she wants to keep her ass in the group at any cost, but it must be hard for her not having anyone to vent out with. If you didn’t hate her so much, you’ll even be sorry for her. Discriminate someone for their sexuality is ridiculous, as it is doing it for their skin color or for _whatever_ reason.

What happens on Wednesday isn’t really planed.

You’re going to the water fountain after one of the most uninteresting classes you’ve ever had and you’re not paying attention when you pass next to the guys. You’ve relaxed too much since Cindy is dead, and that’s a big mistake, because the rest are still there. Roy doesn’t miss the chance to make you trip and fall, all the group bursting into laughs. The only one who doesn’t do it is Remy, maybe because that kind of bond the spell created between you. Without a word and with your cheeks burning in red, you grab your things and get on your feet again while the rest walks to the end of the corridor, stairs’ direction. They are so miserable, so worthless…

You see your chance when they stop at the edge of the stairs, waiting for one of the twins who has gone to the bathroom. At this point, you’ve experimented enough with the spell to know that it works telepathically too. You only need to think about it and Remy is actually doing it. She approaches to Roy, who’s talking to Oliver like nothing happened before, and pushes him downstairs.

The entire corridor lasts in silence.

And the next second is all noisy. Oliver, Lily and Dawn hurry to help Roy and make sure he’s ok under the sight of the rest of the student’s who ran to see what happened. Remy remains at the edge of the stairs, still in a kind of trance until a teacher grabs her arm and starts asking what the hell was she thinking about. You watch all that with a little smirk. Yes, you can’t kill anyone yet, but god, this is even better.

A day after, the incident can be summed up with Remy being expelled for a week –she achieved to convince the principal she wasn’t fully aware of what she was doing and she tripped over Roy, and with Cindy’s death still recent, he decided to be clement-, Roy himself had sutures on his forehead and his dislocated elbow was replaced, but he’s wearing a sling for the next two weeks, and all the high school talking about how Remy losed her mind after Cindy’s accident. During your latin lesson of that day, Jason seems consterned, but he doesn’t bring the topic.

Without your little toy to keep you entertained, Friday is even more boring yet. The only remarcable event happens during your lunch break. As always, you’re sitting alone, playing with a slice of chicken on your meal, when someone stops by your side and clears its throat to catch your attention. When you look up, Lily is there, arms crossed on her chest, tapping the floor with her foot and looking like she wants to be in any other place. Her long black hair is all braided and her makeup is subtle, but maybe is that what makes her even more beautiful. You know why she has assumed the leadership now that Cindy isn’t here anymore. You’re about to ask what she wants, suddenly with all your senses tense and ready to react if she tries something, but she only hands you a folded paper.

“I want to make clear” she says, “this isn’t my idea. I told him you wouldn’t want to be there, and if for any reason you wanted, you shouldn’t be anyway. But he wants you there.” She rolls her eyes and makes a disgusted face.

“He who?” you ask, confused. You ignore her face, but you can’t hide either your own disgusted one. The paper is pink with elegant black letters tracing the words ‘In loving memory’ on the cover.

“Derek. Cindy’s father.” Lily looks back where her friends are, impatient. “He said he saw you at the funeral. I can’t see why that is enough to invite you to this, but he insisted. Do everybody a favor. Don’t go. It isn’t a place for people like you to be.” She doesn’t wait to hear your answer, she turns and goes back to the table with the rest of the group.

You look again to the paper, more confused than before. It looks like something related to Cindy’s death –what a smartass-. You open it and read a formal invitation to a _Halloween costume_ _party_ for the next week, organized by the Allens and, of course, in memory of her beloved daughter. Why the hell would Derek Allen, father of your most hated person, the person _you_ killed, want you in his house? Why did he insisted that much, even under Lily’s protests? Confusion is written in all over your face when you look at the popular table. They’re not paying any attention to you, really focused in their talk and food. If it is a joke, they’re hiding it really well. You don’t know what to think, so you fold it again and put it in your bag, turning to your meal. You don’t need that, not now. Why are you so upset about it?

No matter how hard you try to keep it out of your mind, it’s still there all your way home, it’s still there when you’re laying on your bed with your headphones on listening to Nickleback watching to the ceiling, and it’s still there when you’re trying to translate some more spells from the black book. You’re really having a bad time with that stupid note. After some minutes reading the same line without noticing and not having a clue of what you’re reading, you sigh and decide it’s time to go for a snack. You jumped on your sit when you notice you’re not alone in your room.

“Can you please stop doing that?” you say, calming down in front of that familiar face.

“You don’t like surprises?” Crowley asks, walking two steps in your direction. “For what I know, you’ve been having fun without me.”

You don’t need to ask to know he’s talking about Wednesday’s incident. You shrug and look to the book open on your desk. Since the first spell you tried was a success, you’re trying to translate the most as you can. There are really useful things, even for beginners.

“You didn’t say anything about practice, and I was bored” your rest your back against the chair and cross your arms on your chest, looking at the demon. “And it was an accident. I didn’t pretend to go that far. Roy just… Made me go mad. Are you going to give me a lecture?”

“I’m not your dad, I’m just going to say that spells don’t last forever. They get worse with every day if you don’t break it” he shrugs, indifferent. “But I’m not here to talk about that, you’ve been quite upset today. You know, it’s difficult to work when you’re feeling like that most of the day.”

Yeah, the bond. You’ve almost forgotten about it, but in your defense, you’ve been almost two weeks without any contact with Crowley and completely focused on learning latin. Thinking on a bond you can’t feel was at the end of the list. The King of Hell turns and goes to sit on the edge of your bed. You wonder why he is there, waiting for something, until your realize he’s actually _worrying_ about you. It’s something you wouldn’t expect from a demon in a million of years, even less from a demon like him.

“Don’t look at me like that, kiddo. You’re my inversion, and I need to protect it.”

Of course, there is nothing more than that. Nobody worries about you, why would a demon do it? Even doing your best to hide your deception, you know it’s useless due to the bond, he’s going to feel it anyway, but you still try. You turn your chair and search for the pink paper inside your bag. You hand it to him, still being really uncomfortable with the idea of going to a party where you hate all the guests.

“I don’t understand why Derek Allen would want me at his house, and for what I saw this morning, Lily doesn’t understand either.” Only thinking about that enigma again makes you go and collapse face down on the bed, next to Crowley, hiding your face on the pillows.

“Well, the only way to understand is going there.” It seems simple when he says it.

“He’s _Cindy’s_ father. It’s _Cindy’s_ home. Why the hell would I want to go there?” you muffle the words against the pillows and last in silence for a moment after that. Then, you turn to see his back. “What if it’s another prank from them?”

“I don’t think they would bother her friend’s family with a prank like that due their situation. I don’t think this is false.” He looks really sure about his words while he returns you the paper, turning so he can talk faced to you. It makes sense, they’re still with the mourning and if you show up there telling Lily gave you the fake invitation, all the wrath will go to her, not you. “And I think you should go.”

“Why?”

“Well, since you decided to test your skills and have some fun with your guinea pig, I think we could use that in our favor” he explains. “Use that girl. I’m sure she will go to the party, just have some fun there, but with moderation, ok? And try to get some information. I’ve been noticing how that girl being adored after her death upsets you in astronomical ways. I’m sure people like her family must have something hidden what they’re ashamed about. Make her name dirty forever, kiddo.”

You should really have him around more because that sounded like an amazing plan to you. You get up enough to rest on your elbow, looking at Crowley more interested in the party than you ever been all day. He looks at you back, trying to remain serious, but you could swear there is a little smirk in his face he doesn’t want to show. If you didn’t know him, you would say he’s even proud for making you change your mind. You think about something appropriate to say but nothing comes to your mind.

“I think I will need a new dress” you answer, finally.

The smirk goes bigger.

When you told your mother you wanted to go shopping, she first thought you were sick. She even checked your temperature and all, but as you insisted, she  didn’t questioned and you spent Saturday morning at the mall –completely avoiding the spot where Cindy died-. You tried to do your best with your mother just to see if you could have an agreement in what to wear to the party. That’s another thing, she almost bursts into tears when you said you were going to a party. A _real_ party. Maybe with all the Halloween thing you could find a dress that you can use at the party and as something daily too.

It takes you going through four stores until you find something you could wear. A maroon tight dress, short until mid thigh, velvet clothe, with a black, thick belt around the waist. It’s really beautiful and your mother seems to agree with you –in a Halloween context-. You have a couple pair of boots you could wear with the dress, but your mother insists in going to a shoe store anyway. It ends up being a good choice, because you end up buying a pair of patent leather black heels, simple but beautiful.

The day of the party, you go downstairs with your new outfit. Your mom is waiting to see the final result. Is the first time she’s not making a disappointment face to you wearing clothes like that, so it’s a really weird situation. You’ve got your long hair tickling your back, since you’re not used to show that much of skin with a dress, and walking with heels is not your best point, but you try to use to it.

“Look at you, you look like a complete vampire. Well, there is not a whole different of how you look every day but…” Hell, she actually doesn’t know to say something _nice_ for once and leave it there, right? You ignore it anyway.

“Thanks, mom” you say, checking yourself at the mirror in the hall.

“Tell me again where the party is please?” You didn’t tell her before, so it’s fair she wants to know where you’re going to be. Also, it has to be with the fact she has to drive you there.

“Well, uh…” You didn’t tell her before, afraid of how she would react. “Cindy’s house. Her parents are… Uh… Celebrating a party in her memory. I got the invitation a week ago. I was told Mr. Allen saw me at the funeral and wanted me to come.”

Her face turns into stone at the mention of Cindy’s father. She tries to hide it, but she can’t do a really good job about it. You don’t know if you should ask, but it’s weird you mentioned how Cindy made your life impossible uncountable times and she didn’t even blink and now at the mere mention of her father she lasts without a word. That’s the prove she only listen to you when it’s convenient to her.

“Oh. Ok. Let me search for the car keys and we can leave now.” She searches in her purse while you go to the car. Seeing your mother that upset it’s weird, but you don’t give it importance as she didn’t give when you told your problems. You still have a little resentment with her.

The drive lasts in silence. It’s a little awkward, but not enough to have you watching through the window all the time. Before you get out of the car, you make sure you have the invitation in your purse. You don’t want to be kicked out of the house at the first try. Your mother doesn’t bother to park the car, she just stops at the middle of the street for you to get down after asking you to call her when you want to come back. Then, she’s gone.

You would lie if you say you are not nervous. You stare at the house at the other side of the street, all decorated for the party with the characteristic elegance of the Allens. Is your first party, you will be surrounded by people you hate, but it’s for a good reason. Then, if you’re sure about what you’re going to do, why are you paralyzed at the street?

“Come on, girl.” Crowley’s voice says by your side. Nobody is watching, there are only you two at the street, so it’s safe for him to just _appear_. “They’re not going to bite you.”

“What if they try?” you ask, scared as fuck. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why I did agree to this.”

“Because you hate that bad bitch everyone loves. For being honest, I find myself hating her too. Do something bad they remember all their lives. For you, for me.” You look at him. Crowley has that puppy of hell look in his face you find kind of cute and you can’t help but smiling at him. What a weird thing it is you having a demon to calm your nerves.

“I will be an intruder when I step in.” You look back at the house, where the music is louder enough for you to hear from there. The knot you have in your stomach is still there. You don’t want to be the one the rest makes fun of. Again.

“Show them you can bite them back, then” he answers. “Honestly, I don’t know why they should make fun of you, you look really beautiful tonight. Is like a part of your everyday you in an elegant outfit.”

Surprised by his words, you turn to look at him. He’s biting his lower lip, like he just said something he shouldn’t. Is not the fact he called you beautiful, which, on the other hand, was really awesome and kind from him, is more the fact he has noticed this is part of your own personality, the way you love to dress, dark but subtle, maybe elegant sometimes, but always being comfortable with yourself, even when the rest just makes fun of it. Is that because of the bond? It must be, why should it be in other way? In any case… You internally thank him for those words. As you know, he’s the first one saying you something nice about your clothes.

“Isn’t that too much kind for a demon?” you ask, half kidding, half serious.

“I’m an emotional, shoot me” he answers, sarcastically. He looks awkward, but at the same time like he’s forcing to hide a smile. Then, something catches his attention. “Looks like you’re not going to be all alone tonight. Isn’t that the nice guy from your latin lessons?”

You turn to see what is he talking about and you see Jason getting down from his car and making a gesture to salute you.

“How do you know how Jason looks…?” you start to ask by the time you turn to face Crowley, but he’s not there anymore.

You cross the street to join Jason at the entrance to the house. He’s dressing like a dead guy. Is not really original but he’s handsome anyway. He’s polite enough to wait for you to arrive and going inside together.

“I didn’t know you were invited.” You say to him, crossing the garden.

“I could say the same. I guess the loss of their daughter made them think in something big to honor her memory” he answers, shrugging and showing a kind smile he has always ready to shoot.

“Yeah, it’s probably that.” If Jason noticed your sarcasm, he doesn’t say it. He holds the main door for you to get inside and he enters behind you. “Thank you.”

The hall of the house is bigger than you expected. Well, the house itself is really big, but inside is even bigger than it seems from outside, enough to have the feeling someone is watching you all the time. The room is decorated with fake cobweb and bats besides the black ribbon that hangs all over the space. The music comes from the living room but you can listen to it from everywhere. Is your first time coming here and you don’t know what you should do or if you should announce your presence.

“What if we go for some drinks? I bet everybody is in the kitchen or dancing in the living room.” Jason looks like he has already been here, and you’re not surprised. Cindy probably wanted to make sure he was another ally if she needed him.

“You don’t have to force yourself to be with me just because we arrived at the same time” you say, feeling a little bad for him. You’re uncomfortable forcing someone to be with you.

“I’m not forcing anything, Alma, come on.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into the kitchen’s direction.

You’re feeling something weird inside you. Is like something is not ok with Jason touching you and you don’t know why. You’ve had this feeling before, but it makes no sense, because why should you be _jealous_ about Jason touching you? Nope, not a fucking sense. You’re still confused when Jason brings you a drink. Obviously is not alcoholic drink, the Allens wouldn’t be that silly to give alcohol to a bunch of teenagers, which really sucks. If you’re going to be surrounded by these people, at least you should be allowed to drink.

“You know, it’s quite nice to be able to talk out of our latin lessons, don’t you think?” Jason asks you taking a sip from his own drink. He seems honest while saying that and you have no way to know if he’s just being polite or he really thinks that.

“Yeah, I guess…” You don’t know very well what to say. “Do you know all the people from here?” you ask, trying to have a subject out of the high school.

“Most of them, yes.” He admits. “But a big part is just I know I saw them somewhere and I can’t remember their names. Oh, hey!”

He salutes a couple of guys you don’t recognize at first when they’re hugging Jason, but when they turn apart you can see Oliver, dressed as a zombie, and Roy, all bandaged and still with the sling, so he’s a very poor mummy. Yeah, maybe it’s time to disappear from there.

“Who were you talking to? You brought a chick?” You hear Oliver asking to him and laughing. They didn’t recognize you, maybe because they don’t expect finding you were invited. In any case, better for you.

You walk through the people until you enter at the living room. You recognize some faces hidden under their costumes, some others you don’t have a clue of who it is, so maybe they’re friends of the family. You’re searching for a particular face, but looks like it’s hiding so well from you –not on purpose, of course.

You trip over someone who is giving his back to you. You mutter an apology, since you don’t control very well the walking with heels thing, and you’re about to leave but the person recognizes you as soon as he turns around.

“So, you decided to come.” Derek Allen is really an intimidating person. He’s a tall person, taller than you expected. Grey hair, attractive face, two beautiful grey pearls as eyes…  He’s dressing as a Victorian vampire, which makes him looks more prominent. Since when have you developed an attraction to older man? First Crowley and now Mr. Allen?

“Hi. Uh… Yeah… Thanks for the invitation. I wasn’t sure about coming here… I don’t want to bother anyone” you say, your voice lower enough he has to lean a little over you to hear you properly.

“Don’t be silly, you’re not going to bother anyone coming to a party you were invited.” He’s actually smiling and that relax you a little, enough for smiling him back. “I know you and my daughter weren’t exactly friends. But even with that, you came to the funeral.”

_I wanted to make sure she was dead,_ you want to say.

“Even if we weren’t friends, when someone dies in the way she did… She deserved my respect.” It feels like you swallowed a glass full of poison after saying that. You hope you’ve became a better liar.

“Well, is for that respect I wanted you to be here tonight. I hope you have fun, even if my daughter’s friends doesn’t make that easy.” He takes a strand of your hair and strokes it gently as he watches to you, which makes you feel in two ways. First one, you feel butterflies in your stomach because holy shit those eyes. Second one, again that _jealousy_ you felt when Jason grabbed your hand and which stills making no fucking sense. You try to ignore both.

“Thanks, Mr. Allen” you achieve to say, trying to hide the blush is coming to your face.

“If anyone disturbs you, make me know.” He smiles and goes through the people, leaving you there in a daze.

It takes you a whole minute to recover from that. For being honest, the thing that puts your feet on the ground again is finding the one you were looking for before. Remy has just entered at the living room, dressed with a red hood and a basket, and you couldn’t say if you’re happy or not for her appearance. At first you think it’s makeup, but she’s really pale, even for a Halloween makeup, and you could swear she’s skinnier than the last time you saw her. There is puffiness under her eyes too real for being makeup and she’s still with a weird expression on her face. You remember what Crowley told you about the spells, and it’s been more than a week –almost two- since you decided to test your skills with her.

“Check all the dormitories” you order telepathically, nailing your eyes on hers. “Whatever shameful thing you find, bring it to me. Be discreet.”

You see how she nods subtly and starts to leave the room. Her friends don’t notice she’s gone since they’re not paying her any attention. Sine Roy’s incident, seems like Remy is not as welcome in the group as she was before. You don’t feel any guiltiness for that.

Tired of the ambient inside –and also trying to hide yourself from the bitch club now led by Lily- you go to the garden. Is not completely empty, but people outside are mostly two or three couples and a little group talking near the door. Night breeze makes you feel better, less tense. You walk to the part of the garden nobody is paying attention. A little of loneliness will make you good. Well, that’s what you’re thinking until you see _Crowley_ between some trees. Two times in a day, this must be some kind of record for him. You quit your heels and go barefoot through the grass until where he is. He doesn’t looks really happy, actually, he never does, but this time is different. You wonder if you did something wrong during the thirty minutes you’ve been at the party.  

“I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me in public” you say, remembering what he said the time he brought you to Vancouver. “Is there something wrong?”

He looks at you like if he didn’t see you coming, a little surprised and confused, but above that all, frustrated.

“Since when Derek Allen has that _kind_ of interest on you?” It doesn’t look like what he was going to say at first, but you don’t comment that. Wait. What?

“Were you _spying_ me?” you ask, trying to keep your voice lower. You’re used to him knowing what you’ve done if that was related to spells or if it had something to do with your bond, but that kind of _knowing_? Like he was watching _all the time_.

“Spying, protecting, whatever you want to call it. Don’t try to change the subject.”

“Excuse me?” You can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“I excuse you. Why has Derek Allen that much interest on you?” He insists, ignoring your anger.

“I don’t know!” you exclaim. “Don’t try to distract me. Why were you spying me?”

“Oh, come on kid! Do you really think I was going to let you come here alone without knowing what the hell he wants from you?” Yes, he’s altered. Yes, he looks worried behind all that anger. Yes, this is weird as fuck because holy hell why should a demon be worried about you. It makes your stomach twist and feel those annoying butterflies inside again.

“You are worried…” you mutter, still can’t believe what is happening right now. Crowley rubs the back of his head in a frustrated gesture, biting his lower lip. “You are worried!” you repeat, more confident about your own words. “But why?”

“The father of the girl who was making your life impossible in high school invites you to a party in her memory knowing you were not friends at all and you ask me why I am spying you? Do you hear yourself any time?” he answers, like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why are you worried?” you insist. He’s not going to cheat you changing the subject.

You don’t know if you want to hear the answer to that. Yes, you had a little hope buried in your chest that at least you’ve been so close to anyone that even has been worried about you, and that little hope has been growing even when you tried not to. And now, knowing that a demon, the motherfucking _King of Hell_ , is worried about you makes you wish you never came to the party. Is not like you don’t feel a thing. Hell, it would be a lot easier if you _didn’t feel_ anything. It’s more the opposite. That feeling has been growing strong inside you and you tried to cut it off. And now, words has been shot, you can’t make them come back. He made clear before you were his _inversion_ , he has to protect his _inversion_. Hearing that again maybe will make you some good and you’ll forget about that stupid feeling or it will make you worse and wanting to end with all right there.

The answer never comes out of his mouth. He stares at you in silence until his eyes pass to something behind you. Not far from that you start hearing some steps behind you and your heart accelerates until you realize it’s just Remy. Crowley doesn’t bother to hide from her. She has still that horrible tired face and she’s even skinnier now that you see her closer. The spell has exhausted her until a worrying limit, and if she wasn’t someone you hate that much, you probably will re-think the whole thing.

Remy hands you a wood box, little enough to fit in your purse but bigger enough to contain some papers –which is what you deduce it’s inside since the box is lighter than you expected-.

“Did anyone see you?” you ask, happy for having something else to think about. She shakes her head in response. “Something I need to know?”

“You may want to know” she says “Lily told to the guys you were here. They’re planning something to do with you. They shut up when I came close, so I don’t know what it is.” After that, she stares at you, like waiting for something more.

“Go back to the party” you order. She nods and walks back to the house. By the time she leaves you alone with Crowley again, you’re calmed down, but your fingers still trembling a little when you put the box inside your purse. You’re not in a mood now to see what it contains.

“I’ll go back with you” Crowley suddenly says, walking a few steps into your direction until he’s by your side. “They won’t dare to do a thing to you if you’re with an adult.”

“Are we playing the uncle and the niece?” you ask, not sure if having Crowley by your side now will be a good idea.

“It looks like” he answers, starting to walk across the grass leading you to the house, helping you when you put your heels on again.

As Crowley said, nobody dares to approach to you in a bad mood when he’s with you. You notice how Dawn and Lily look to you when you walk by their side in the living room, and how Oliver, Richard and Roy watch you in the distance. Internally, you thank Crowley for not leaving you alone. Internally, you could swear you just felt a warm answer to that gratitude.

You see Remy at the end of the room, Becky talking to her. You wonder what it must be until you see concern in Becky’s expression. She hands a glass of water to Remy and makes her drink. At least, one of the whole group of “friends” shows a little mankind to her instead treating her like she has a contagious illness.

“Call me crazy but I believe that’s not going to end very well” Crowley says, staring at the same as you. He has seen Remy as well as you and you’re sure he knows better than you what effect the prolonged spell could have on her.

As if he was a kind of prophet, Remy’s nose starts to bleed. Becky hands her a tissue, but soon she sees it isn’t enough. Remy starts to cry blood as soon as she’s cleaning the blood from her nose. And there is blood going out of her ears and nails too. Her lips start to get cut and suddenly it’s all bloody. Becky starts to scream for help and you feel Crowley pushing you gently into him, a hand in your left arm, he standing at your right side, like a half hug. Everybody has turn to see what’s happening and some of the adults are running to help the poor girl who is on her knees bleeding from all the holes of her body. Remy is looking around herself like she’s not noticing what’s going on. Then, her eyes meet yours, and you can see the fear masked in that trance expression. You don’t quit your eyes from hers, watching how, with every second, death comes slowly for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Famulatus means servitude.


	5. Sweet child O' mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys, I'm very busy this month x.x I hope you still loving me with this!

Just like happened when Cindy died in the middle of the mall, the following seconds are a true madness. You want to stay and enjoy the show, damn, all the high school guys screaming and freaking out puts you in a really good mood, but Crowley’s hand grabs your arm and pulls you out of the crowd until you are at the corridor, leaving the dead body behind, but her bloody scared eyes still inside your mind like a good dream injecting you adrenaline. You open your mouth to protest but Crowley interrupts you before you can say something.

“We need to make away with the bag.” He says that with an urgent tone you haven’t heard him yet until now, so that must be something quite important. You don’t know at first what he’s talking about but then you remember the little bag you needed to make the spell.

“Can’t it wait until Monday?” you ask, since it’s in Remy’s locker at the high school and there is no possibility to go there until then.

“Monday could be too late” he says, more like talking to himself than to you. The demon looks around to make sure nobody is watching you, but everybody is attending the dead girl in the living room, so there is no problem with that.

“Too late? Too late for what?” you ask, starting to seriously worrying about.

“Where did you put it?” he asks, not paying any attention to the question you made. You’re sure he has a clue of where it is, but he needs all the information. After you tell him, he’s gone in a blink and you’re left there in the middle of the chaos.

Some minutes later, you hear the ambulance arriving. By then, you’ve managed to remain unnoticed by the rest hiding in the kitchen. You arrived to the conclusion that trying to get in the living room was a waste of time, since the adults were trying to make sure nobody was watching anything, for respect or for whatever the hell they do it. When the paramedics are taking Remy’s body on the stretcher, everybody is in silence. You achieve to see the faces of her pretended friends, watching the scene with their hearts in a fist, especially when one of Remy’s hands falls dead from the stretcher and everybody makes an scared sigh because she even bleed from down her nails and the result isn’t really pretty. Well, what a better way to honor Cindy’s memory in her party than making one of her friends going to join her wherever she is?

You don’t expect Jason appearing suddenly behind you. He’s not looking good either and for a second you feel bad, because if someone didn’t deserve to see that, it was Jason. But, even when Jason has tried to be nice to you since you’re going to latin lessons, that doesn’t mean you’re going to stop with your revenge. _Sorry, Jason, but this is more personal than what you would wish._

“Are you ok?” you ask him, a little worried and trying to hide your internal satisfaction. “This wasn’t what I was expecting for a Halloween party, honestly. I’m sorry, I think you were friends.”

“Not real friends” he admits. “But I used to know her, and that doesn’t help now.” He lasts in silence for a few moments. “Paramedics say she collapsed by fatigue. She didn’t look fine when she came, actually.” Then, he rubs his hand through the back part of his head, like he’s the tired one now.

“Maybe you should go back home” you say. You start to think about what you should do, because giving your mom a phone call probably wouldn’t be a good idea. The last time she saw someone’s death didn’t end very well. There is always Crowley, but you don’t know if he’s going to come back for tonight. “This isn’t going to make you well either.”

He nods, pensive. Who can blame him if he doesn’t know what’s appropriate for the situation. You aren't aware of it either. What are you supposed to do? Well, that’s a good question for the moment. If there is no dead body, there is no fun, and it looks like everybody is going to leave soon too.

“Yeah, I should go” he finally says. “Do you want me to take you home?”

You look at him, surprised. Nobody has offered company before to you, not more than necessary, and having Jason offering you a ride to home is quite new for you. You think that, since he offered, it does mean that he doesn’t mind to take you home. It looks like a good option, so you nod.

“Thanks. We shouldn’t stay here for longer. It’s going to be more difficult for the Allen’s if we stay around.”

Jason taps your back gently before he leads you to the main door, where the ambulance is still there and the paramedics are talking with some of the adults. You both go to his car, avoiding the police car which is arriving to the house. The sooner you leave, the better. None of you is with the mood of answering any question.

“So, where do you live?” he ask driving half way to the main road of the village. He looks like he needs to focus on something, and driving looks like the best option right now.

“Go to the west park, then the north road until I tell you” you guide him. Is the first time you have some kind of… Can you call this “date”? Ok, not a date, but a guy is taking you back home. You don’t know what to talk about, and what would be appropriate in a situation like this. “Ok, the next one to the right, it’s the third house after that stop signal.”

Once the car stops in front of your house, you look at Jason again before getting down. He looks tired, more than he should, and his exhausted expression doesn’t help. Guiltiness starts to invade you again.

“Well… Uh… Thanks for the drive” you say. He looks at you and force a smile. He’s polite even in the worst moments. You open the door, but before leaving, you look at him again. “You know… It will be better if you try to distract yourself once you’re at home. Watch a film, a show, read something… But don’t go right to bed.” Jason gives you a confused and surprised look. You shrug. “Years of bullying experience. Believe me. Distraction is the key.”

“Sorry” he says. “You don’t deserve that.”

You unconsciously stroke your arm full of scars, feeling warm inside instead pain for once. Jason is an amazing person, and you want him to have the best in his life. He’s apologizing for something he didn’t do, he’s doing it for the people who actually do. Not a lot of people can say that. You open your mouth, not knowing what to say.

“Thanks” you go finally, forcing a little smile. “Well… Good night.”

“Good night.”

You go out of the car and close the door, but Jason doesn’t leave until you’re crossing the main door. Once you’re in, your mother looks surprised and doesn’t hesitate about asking you about that. You think about the best way of telling her.

“Well… Uh…” You start. “Something happened at the party and I needed to come back sooner, so one of my partners offered to take me home.”

“Sounds fun” she answers, not moving of the couch, losing suddenly the interest. “At least I didn’t have to move.”

You’re not even surprised. Your mother’s interest on you can come and go really easy. You don’t waste your time trying to keep a conversation, and it will be better for her not knowing about what really happened, so you go upstairs to your room, getting barefoot in your way there. You leave the shoes and the purse in some spot on the floor and you collapse face down on your mattress. Scenes of what happened that night cross your mind and you can’t know if it ended good or not. Is not about the entire Remy thing, not about realizing that Jason is nicer than you expected, not about the fucking reasons that could make Derek Allen wanting you in the party. Is about Crowley. He said he was watching over you, you even noticed he was actually worried, maybe _jealous_ … You think about it again, and again, and again. And then, you re-play in your head the moment when Remy started to collapse, the moment Crowley pulled you closer to him. Did he really do that? Could you have dreamed it or it was actually real?

Pain. It only causes pain to you. You cheat yourself thinking about Crowley having feelings for you. He’s a demon. He’s the king of the demons. He’s above all that, for sure. You tell to yourself that’s not going to happen, and your chest hurts so badly. You turn on the bed, face up so you can breathe properly, but it doesn’t help. The pain is still there, and now is one of those moments when you feel each one of your scars, the arm ones and the thighs ones. You scratch one of your thigh, trying to keep that feeling away, but it ends up being useless. Is not the first time since you quit than you feel the urge need to start to cut again, but you’ve always been over it, ignoring it so badly you turn it into a little itching in your mind. You try to do the same now, ignore it, trying to calm yourself down, but this time it doesn’t work. This time is a whole different thing. Even having the satisfaction that revenge causes on you, things going a little better than before, you’ve never feel this emptiness. Your own mother doesn’t pay you attention. How anyone could get to love you?

It’s ten minutes later –or half an hour, you couldn’t tell- when you decide to move again. You know that what you’re about to do will throw to the ground all your effort since you quit self harming, but this is not like the other times you needed it and you ignored. The pranks, the hurtful words, the mocks, all that is nothing. Is the need of love and the lack of it what is really hurting you. You manage to sit on the bed, rubbing a hand through your hair.

“I thought you were stronger than that” a familiar voice says not far from you. When you look up again, there he is. Crowley is watching at you from one of the corners and he doesn’t look very pleased. Maybe he knows what you were about to do. Quit the maybe. He knows.

“What do you care?” You shrug  and avoid his eyes. “Nobody ever gave a fuck about that. Why would you?”

Silently, he walks until he’s sitting next to you on the bed. For some minutes, you both don’t say anything. You don’t want to do it if he’s going to be there watching, and he doesn’t seem to be leaving soon. You try to get distracted watching how interesting your nails are and you nearly jump in your seat when you feel a soft touch in your left thigh. When you look, Crowley is guiding his finger through every scar you have there. He looks absent, distracted by the way they draw lines on your skin, and he stops at the edge of your dress even when the scars go further than that. You let go a surprised sigh. It’s the first time someone touches you in that gentle way, and it makes you feel really vulnerable. Finally, he looks at you again.

“You really think that I don’t care” he says. “Things would be easier if I didn’t. The truth is…” He hesitates, shrugging a bit. “I got relented.”

Your stomach is twisted, not knowing if there are butterflies or actual eagles inside of it. You don’t dare to breathe, and your heart is beating in your fucking ears because holy shit you can hear it too loud. You go slowly. First, you manage to breathe, which make things easier again. After that, you go for an easy fake laugh.

“I’m so miserable a demon feels pity about me.” But, for some reason, you don’t feel really bad about it.

“You should be proud, not everybody is lucky enough to see my charm. They use to end up worse than death before than that.” He talks like he’s kidding, but you start to think there is something truthful in his words.

“How can someone be worse than death?” You manage a smile.

“Maybe you’ll ask them someday” he says. That gets a look from you that makes him smile too. “If you’re still willing to have that silly revenge of yours, one day you’ll have to come to hell, remember?”

Oh, yeah, that. Is not like you forgot about it, is just that you don’t like to think about it. Crowley has promised you that if you were going to be his pupil, you won’t have to go through all the torture and you’ll be a demon immediately, but that still scares you a little. Would you be able to do it right? Actually, you’re making a step in the right direction with the book and the witchcraft, and not talking about the deaths, obviously. Maybe the way to become a “good” demon is hidden in all the people you want to _kill._

“Did I mess up all with that spell?” You ask, afraid about have ruined the layer of discretion you were supposed to keep.

He lifts his eyebrows in a little surprise.

“Well, I wouldn’t say you messed it, but you should take things easier, kiddo.” The answer relaxes you a little. “For your own safety.”

“I’m not a kid.” Is not the first time he treats you like that, you just have to remember the first day you met, when he barely took you seriously, but you would like to prove you’re capable to make things right. “I know how to take care of myself.”

He looks down and draws an irregular circle on your thigh, surrounding almost all the visible scars, and then he looks back to you.

“You’re not a kid” he says. “But there are some things you need to solve, and that doesn’t make me worry less.”

This time, you look at him. You still can’t understand why he is worrying about you. Some of that incomprehension must show in your face, because he draws a little smirk on his own.

“Yes, I know, we’re not over the irony yet, I get it. But it’s the true.” Crowley looks at some point of your room, not really looking at it, more like he’s thinking. “I don’t know exactly why. Of course, I have some clues, and the bond between us is stronger than I’m used to…” Another time, he pauses and you wonder if you should say something to it. Is the first time Crowley is talking to you so openly and you’re afraid that ends up if you say something inappropriate. Fortunately, that doesn’t happen yet. “I suppose I’m too old for this.”

“That means you’re experienced” you say. You meant it. You’re a true mess with feelings and everything that has something to do with life, and you’re a human. He’s a demon, he’s been on earth longer than you’ve been, longer than anyone you know has been, he knows how to deal with almost everything and you find that really attractive.

“Experienced…” He repeats the word like he’s tasting it, enjoying how it sounds. His smirk grows a little. “That sounds better.”

You both remain in silence a little more. You realize the pain in your chest is longer gone, your scars don’t itch and you’re being filled by a warm feeling. It’s all because of him, he put it there and he took it back. It’s curious how someone manages to take that kind of control of your body without even noticing it.

“Thanks for worrying about me” you say, a warm smile being drawn in your face.

“Is not your fault being surrounded by idiots” he answers. “Anyone with some brain would do the same. Like that friend of yours.”

His lasts words are stained by a jealousy touch you almost miss. It would be more difficult to understand if you hadn’t had this talk before, but now that you know he cares, he worries, it’s easier to figure out. He’s trying to protect you in the same way he did when you went inside the Allen’s house when Remy told you her friends were planning another prank. He doesn’t want you hurt anymore. You smile a little longer.

“He’s not like you” you say before you can realize. “He’s not the demon on my shoulder.”

What happens next occurs like in a dream. You didn’t see it coming. Before you can respond, Crowley is leaning over you and his lips catching yours in a sweet embrace. It’s so different than the first time you kissed… This time, your heart is blooming, your soul is being touched for the first time. It’s something new, something exciting and addictive. You feel the taste of old whiskey in your mouth, it’s rude and strong, but you get used easily to it, _too much easily_. You feel emptiness when he leans back separating from you. You’re aware of the way he’s looking at you, like he made some sort of mistake. You need him to know that’s not true, it was not a mistake, but all what you manage to do is grabbing his arm firmly, your fingers sinking in the sleeve of his jacket. No words come to your mouth, your mind is completely white. His hand cups your cheek in a tender gesture. You think is just that, a gesture, but then you start to feel very sleepy.

You’re laying on the bed, Crowley made sure you were comfortable. He’s sitting by your side, removing strands of your hair out from your face. He had to put you like that because he couldn’t stand the pressure anymore. He’s not ready, you’re not ready. Maybe that shouldn’t happen. Ever. Your breath is heavy, you’ll sleep until the morning, and that should be enough reason for him to leave, but he remains there, watching you. How curious effect mankind can have on a demon, until the point feelings are stronger than will.

“This is for your own safety, kiddo” he says, getting on his feet after a big effort. “Maybe it’s too late, but I have to at least try to keep you away from me.” The demon hesitates before leaving another soft kiss on your forehead. That doesn’t disturb your dreams and he’s able to step back without waking you up. “You deserve something more.”

Even with all his years over his shoulders, this is making Crowley shiver to the bone, because it’s the first time someone touches him that deep, and not having this particular thing under control makes his own world tremble.


	6. Far away from me

It takes you some minutes to remember how you got into the bed last night. Memories are vague, but you can see how you came back and collapsed on the bed, too tired for even change your clothes. You turn to your side to watch the clock on your night table, it’s almost noon and you find weird your mother isn’t beating your door down to wake you up. After some more minutes –and a big effort- you manage to get on your feet and go to the shower with some clothes for the day. You don’t hear a sound in your way to the bathroom, so you guess you’re alone.

The water slipping all through your body helps to get you more awake. Remy’s face before dying comes to your mind, her scared look, the screams all over the room. This time, that feeling of satisfaction doesn’t come as stronger as the first time. Yes, is still there, but is not the same as you watched how Cindy collapsed in the fruit of her own ego. Remy’s death wasn’t planned, and if you want to enjoy every dirty little second of all the people you want dead, you must take control. You wonder if that second death will rest a year to the term you have with Crowley. You take a mental note to ask him later when he decides to show up.

You still feel bad about Jason. The guy was really nice to you last night, and even when things got murky, he still managed to be polite and even took you home. The apologize he muttered when you told him about the abuse you get was clearly honest. Maybe you should bring him something the next time you see him, in payment for his kindness to you. Also, you feel bad for –indirectly- killing someone in front of him, but you can’t say him that.

When you finish with your shower, you still have the feeling that you’re missing something, but you’re not sure about what it is.

Monday comes and goes quick. Is more the same the week after Cindy’s death. The next day at your latin lesson, Jason looks like he’s the same as always, but still a little affected by what happened. You still can’t blame him, last weekend wasn’t easy, and the week isn’t going better either. Looks like the high school can’t quit of black. Is not something you dislike, but that has all the people in a weird mood, including the teachers. You still can’t feel a bit of guiltiness for any of them.

That’s how the week passes, quick, calmed, boring. Crowley doesn’t show up again in that time, but you’re used to his absence. You try to do your best with latin and trying to translate the book, but this time without spells. Crowley has told you it’s dangerous, and even when you wonder why should a couple of strange deaths be more than that for someone, you don’t do a thing. If a demon tells you it’s dangerous, maybe he’s wiser than you, and you should listen.

Yeah, that’s what you think during the first week and half of the second. It starts to be really annoying not being allowed to do a thing but research. You’re really tempted to give a try to one of those new spells you translated, but you don’t. By the end of the second week, you’re disappointed about how things are back to normal again. Crowley doesn’t show up either.

Third week is more of the same. You start to be angry about how you are been ignored by every-single-one. Even Jason seems too busy to give you any attention. This week is really frustrating and exasperating, you do not learn anything new from the book, your latin has frozen and you can’t start to translate the really _interesting_ parts, so, in an explosion of rage, you end up burying it at the bottom of the drawer. That’s how the week ends. Crowley doesn’t show up either.

The rage comes stronger by the fourth week. The popular guys didn’t forget you’re still in the high school. When they start to be recovered from the two deaths, pranks come back again. A shove at the corridor, an insult over there, laughs, mocks… All is back again, like nothing happened. Like if they didn’t learn anything. That weekend, when you’re holding your tears back in your eyes and you’re blaming and cursing everybody telepathically, you open the drawer again and take the book. Your fingers stroke the black leather cover of the book without title, which is actually a lie because you _know_ the title, and you hesitate briefly before opening it.

It’s all there, all what you need to make them pay, to make them beg sorry before you kill them. Why should you need Crowley for that now that you can read most of the book? If all the spells last the same as the Famulatus one and they have the same result, why should you care about becoming the pet of the demon who has abandoned you at this point without no reason? Obviously he doesn’t care about you, you’re just an –how did he call it?- _inversion_ for him. Why shouldn’t you try to have some actual fun? And it would cost you anything, no years off to the term. If you just could read the rest of the spells…

You put the book back in the drawer and close it. No more fantasies, no more daydreaming. Life sucks, doesn’t matter what you do, it will always suck. Crowley doesn’t show up.

And with that, November is gone.

It’s mid December by now. Your life has become pretty much the same as it was before you find the book. Your latin lessons have been canceled so the students can prepare themselves for the exams, so even that has been taken from you. The book is still buried in your drawer, you don’t have bothered to try something new and it’s better for you in that way. The only thing that is at least a little different in your life –not sure if it’s for better- is that now is not Cindy the one who leads the pranks to your person, is Lily. She has assumed the leader role on the group and you have to admit it fits her, doesn’t matter how much you hate it.

Every new day you wake up with a cloud above your head, it’s from a clear grey which changes all along the day, becoming darker and darker and darker. When you step into the high school, when your classes start, when Roy laughs at you at the corridor, when the girls hide your clothes after gym, when Becky mocks at you during the lunch break, when the twins make you trip and they stole your books when you fall, when you find them with your clothes in a bin. By the end of the day, when you curl up on your bed, the cloud is black and raining over your head, and you think that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be the day you call Crowley to end the job.

But you don’t.

And all starts again. When you wake up, the cloud is clear grey again.

It’s painful being abandoned by everybody, yes, but it’s even more when someone you trusted, you thought he could _care_ , does.

So, no, you don’t call him the next day. Or the next one, or next.

You can’t trust anybody.

The last day before Christmas Holidays comes like a balsam. Only thinking about not seeing those monsters during two whole weeks makes you sigh in relief more than someone else would do. Classes are light and people spends most of their time talking to each other while the teacher just reads a magazine or something until the bell rings. If you hadn’t to pick some things from your locker, you hadn’t bothered to come.

You’re unchaining your bike from the pole and about to leave, wool hat, gloves and scarf all wrapping yourself, when you hear your name in the wind. It’s a familiar voice and you turn to smile to Jason, who’s coming to your direction with a coat which makes him bigger. Since your lessons are canceled, it’s been a long since you talked properly, but he always waves a hand to you when he sees you at the corridor and smiles you back, sometimes a quick chit chat but nothing really serious.

“Did I forget something?” you ask not really serious.

“No. Perhaps. Maybe.” He smiles to you. “I just… Now that we’re on holidays… I thought you might like to have a coffee or something. It’s been a long since we’ve seen each other out of here and… Well, maybe that wasn’t the best situation to know someone better.”

Completely true. The last and only time you met out of latin classes someone died. Maybe because of you, but she died anyway. But now, agreeing a future meeting with Jason… Is that… a date? Ok, ok, don’t freak out, maybe it’s not… _that_. Because honestly. Jason? Asking _you_ for a date? Maybe when hell freezes.

“Uh… Yeah, sure. It will be nice, thank you.” Your answer is unsure but the truth is it would be really nice having some time out of your house with someone who’s actually nice.

“Great! May I have your number?”

You exchange numbers and then he goes back with a nicer smile than before which leaves you full of weird sensations. You have to repeat yourself that this is not a date a few more times, because, seriously, Jason is the guy who _doesn’t_ have a girlfriend. He’s not interested in having one, and even if he would be, you weren’t going to be his choice. With that in mind, feet again on the ground, you ride your way to home.

You almost jump in surprise when you see Crowley at your room.

“Seriously?!” you exclaim as you close the door behind you. “I’ve been feeling like crap during the lasts weeks and you didn’t appear even when we have that stupid _bond_ or whatever you call it, and when everything starts to be fine and I’m up to meet a nice guy you decide to show up?”

“You could have called” he answers, shrugging like nothing happens and that only annoys you more.

“You always came when I needed and I didn’t call.”

“I’m a business man, I use to be busy” he walks two steps in your direction, really intimidating, and you step back. “Other miserable people, other deals, souls to collect, you know. No time to take care of little girls.” You don’t allow that dagger hurt you in the way it does.

“Then why are you here?”

That seems to leave him without words. For a moment it looks like you catch him off guard, but you’re a fool if you really think you could taunt the devil.

“To tell you it’s safe for now” he says. “If you still wanting to become a little supernatural serial killer.”

Is not like you forgot about all that, not even far from it. In fact, the desire is still there, gabbed deep to your heart, but for now it just looks… unsatisfactory. You don’t feel the need like you felt with Cindy. Maybe if Crowley showed up before, when you really felt sick of them, when you were really burning in rage, maybe then. But now… Today was a quite good day, and you have two whole weeks without no one of them annoying you. Probably you got used to it, to mean nothing to the rest of the world and you are just tired of trying to make a difference. You lived again, almost two months without Crowley and your life was a mess like it was before, and who says it has to be in other way?

Maybe you deserve this.

“No.” The answer is short, simple, and it comes out of your mouth before you can realize. That seems to surprise him.

“No?” He asks, blinking exaggeratedly for the situation.

“Is it going to change anything?” you ask to him, really wanting a different answer from the one you already have. “Is it going to make me better than them?”

“What happened to the lady who wanted all of them punished, suffering while having a terrible and totally deserved death?”

“She grew up.” You shrug. “I guess.”

You remain in silence during a few minutes. The demon looks disappointed, even when he tries to hide it, and that only makes you feel worse. Is that bad you want to live the rest of your life –those ten years that you have- with some dignity? Are you that bad you disappointed a fucking demon? Your stomach twist in disgust when he looks up to you again, face serious and frozen eyes.

“Then I should leave” he says. “ _I guess_.”

You look at him wanting to say something, to say stay, to say go away, to say whatever, just something so he can stop looking at you like that. It’s cold, it’s uncomfortable, it’s bad. But you say nothing, and he just stares.

“The deal is still on” he speaks again. “If someday you want someone killed, just give me a call.” He points a poster in your wall with the ‘666’ on it. “You have my number.”

And then he’s gone again. You’re alone in your room and feeling so sick you need to go to the bathroom to throw up. The disappointment drew all over his face just makes you feel worse. A voice inside your head says that you’re poison, you’re scum, rubbish. Your arms itch where you have all the scars, the same in your thighs, and this time is too much to ignore it. You search for the blades your mother and you use to shave your legs in the little closet above the sink. You remove the blade from the plastic and sit on the toilet with it trembling in your hand. You look at your arm, scars tracing a sinuous road along it, and it’s scary how easy is to add another line to it. And then another. And another. Three new lines. The pain infects you like an old disease, but also like an old friend. It’s familiar, embracing, but at the same time is not enough. It’s never been enough.

You watch the three new lines of blood in your skin, wondering how many time you’ll need to heal it again. And if you’re going to do it again. You don’t want to, but once you’ve started… Who knows.

A few minutes after you clean up all and you cover the cuts with a cloth. You go back to your room, feeling like the worst monster in the world and you curl up on your bed, letting the fatigue come to you. You close your eyes, just wanting all the pain gone when you open them again.

X

Crowley puts the knife down on the table and cleans his hands with a dirty clothe. There’s blood everywhere, like usual in torture, but he’s used to it. Actually, he enjoys with it. Damn, he would be a crappy demon if he didn’t like seeing blood. Maybe it’s a little annoying after the encounter with those annoying brothers half a year ago, but as long as he has that little trouble under control, everything will be fine.

But still having the problem with that human, Alma. He tried so hard to keep her away from him, so, so hard… But also is irresistible.  Sometimes he has surprised himself watching her during her sleep and he always left before she woke up, but that seemed to be enough. And when she started to feel really, really bad, he was very tempted to show up and try to make her feel better with another death, but it wasn’t safe. He bitted his tongue and stayed away, shutting up the bond between them so it’s more bearable while he tried to keep the brothers away from her. If he could make her understand…

No. Those two are his problem, not hers.

And there was that one guy… Jason. He’s so terrible fucking jealous of him. He had tried to keep him away from Alma using old magic tricks, a possession would be bad enough to bring the brothers there and he doesn’t want that, but the guy found a way to go through all of it and he asked the girl out. Damn. He should have sent him somewhere in the middle of the Sahara. The worse is that was enough to have him doing a visit to the girl. She was angry, he understands why, but it was really painful to hear those words from hear, not talking about _feeling_ every word by the bond. She doesn’t want to kill anyone else. After the far she went, after the far they went together, she wants to stay away. She wants him away and he can’t blame her for that.

He has shut down the bond again, he needs to stay away for now too. After lying to her telling that it was safe now he has a lot of work to do to make it true. He needs the brothers as far away from her as he can, and for now, torturing this hunter is the best way to obtain information. He only hopes the girl being smart enough to not start with the magic again this soon.

X

You wake up in the middle of the night. You’ve spent the whole evening and a few more hours resting, or trying at least. You feel a little better, but you’re still dizzy and with your stomach all twisted. Your arm hurts, the three cuts itching like hell. You just get out of the bed enough time to change to some comfortable clothes and get back to have a full sleep.

You don’t feel any better in the morning, but at least you don’t have to go to school today. You do your best to hide the cuts to your mother. Is not a big deal, she doesn’t pay attention to you and you’re kind of relieved for that. You spend most of the day in your bedroom anyway, reading, playing any laptop game or just lying on the bed listening to some music. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to feel.

You achieve that the second day, and then it’s like nothing happened. But there is still a dark cloud above your head.

Christmas day comes and goes easy. Your mother doesn’t bother to buy you something and same to you. You just have a lunch together faking you’re happy with each other, but the truth is she desires a better daughter and you wish she wasn’t that bipolar when you’re around.

It’s just three days later when you get a call from Jason. Honestly, you have forgotten about that with all what happened with Crowley and the cuts that still healing on your arm, but your heart just jump happy to see he still remembers. You pick up the phone, not knowing what to say. Hi seems a good option.

“Hi Jason” you say, nervous as hell.

“What’s up Alma?” he sounds excited and that’s quite contagious.

“Nothing interesting, you?”

“Well, just had some lunch with my father, he wants to know which university I want to chose and all that, you know.” That doesn’t make him feel excited and you feel bad. “Hey, have you heard about the new year’s eve plan?” And then, excited again. You find it kind of cute.

“What plan?” you ask. Not talking to anyone has advantages and disadvantages. You’re not sure in which category is having a plan for an special day.

“There is a party in a bar the guys rented. They told me to invite people and whoever I wanted, so I thought… You know… You might want to come.” The last words seem tucked in his throat and you can’t help but smiling to yourself. This makes you blush too. Is the first time a guy asks you to go with him to a party. That probably won’t mean anything, but just the fact of being invited is enough.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Jason says your name, afraid the call was missing or something. You get your voice back to answer.

“Yes, yes, sorry.” Sounds fun at the beginning, but then you realize who “the guys” might be. “Wait, the guys? Like, Lily, Oliver, all of them?”

“Yes, but before you say anything, they said whoever I wanted, and that includes you, don’t worry” he says immediately when he realizes what’s going on.

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea…”

“Come on, Alma, you can’t be afraid the rest of your life.” Even when you think that, yes, you could be, you sigh at the other side of the phone. “It will be fun, you’ll see.”

You have to be mad because you’ve said yes before you realize and Jason sounds even happier now when he hangs up. You manage to get a little smile while watching the phone screen turning dark again. What could be wrong? You’re going to go with Jason. Maybe those little fuckers won’t dare to do anything against you.

Poor little fool.

The day comes too quick, ok, maybe because it’s only three days later. You’ve been wondering what you should dress like one of those girls in the shows you hate so much, but the truth is that you’re excited. You check your closet like three times until you decide to wear a simple black dress,  maybe not warm enough for that time of the year, but you put a pair of black tights, those ones that get clearer when they expand, with the heels you wore during the Halloween party and your black leather jacket. Simple, but quite in your style.

Jason picks you up at the hour you arranged the day before. Your mother isn’t at home, she went out with her friends as every year and she doesn’t wonder if you’re staying like always or going out, so she doesn’t know you have a plan for tonight. Better for you. No stupid questions, no orders about what to wear, completely free. And just in case she comes back before you, she probably would think you’re asleep. You get in the car with your _friend_ , a little nervous because is the first time someone of your age really wanted you to come to a part, but promptly Jason made you forget about that. Out of high school he’s as nice as he seems. He jokes, and jokes so often you forget about this being the first time you go out with someone you can call friend. Jason is so natural, so nice. You wonder why you didn’t do this before.

The place is a rented bar near the most quiet zone from the village. Jason assured you that you won’t have to pay anything, you were a guest and he would be paying anything for you in case you need to. Outside is cold, but not as cold as it uses to be this time of the year. Inside is warm, a couple of stoves located strategically to keep the heat in the room. It’s all decorated with festive blue, white and silver ornaments hanging from the ceiling and the walls, like little snowdrops. It’s beautiful, you have to recognize the guys have worked hard on it.

Speaking of, Lily, Becky and Dawn are already there. There are some new girls you’ve never seen before at the high school, so you guess they’re friends from outside. The girls stop talking as they see walking you in and look at you like if something was smelling terrible under their nose. When Jason walks by your side, they come back to what they were doing, but you know you’re not welcome there.

A door opens behind some tables and from the kitchen come out Josh and Jeremy, the twins, giggling like the couple of idiots they are. When they see you both, they come to effusively greet Jason, ignoring you at first. You don’t care, you’re used to it. But is an actual surprise when they finally see you and talk to you.

“We thought you weren’t coming. You know” Josh –or is it Jeremy?- gestures around him. “This doesn’t seem like your style. And we know we aren’t your favorite persons, are we?”

Well, you are not.

“I think I’m not your favorite either” you answer, not sure if they’re trying to make a joke or is a poor attempt to be polite. You expect the smile on their faces vanish with your comment, but it only gets bigger.

“Never too late to make new friends” one of them says, you’re not sure which one. “Besides, is nothing personal, we’re always pranking around, isn’t it true Jason?”

“A couple of years ago they painted my car with pink spray paint. Even the windshield. My father almost kills me and I nearly kill them.” The three of them laugh at the same time and you stare at them like they’re crazy. What’s fun on it? It must be something in the Y chromosome… Boys.

“Anyway, nothing personal, Alma” one twin says.

“Nothing personal” the other twin repeats.

“Nothing personal” you force yourself to say with a shy smile. You’re not sure if they’re being honest, but maybe this is the beginning of a new phase to you. Maybe you can stop being the weird one thanks to Jason.

The twins go to greet Roy and Richard, who just arrived with a couple more of their friends. You move away while Jason goes to do the same with the girls and for some minutes you remain alone. After a while, you leave your jacket in a chair near the door. It’s starting to be warmer enough inside for it. A couple of girls, including Becky, stare at you for a moment and they make like nothing happened but you’re aware of it. This is going to be a long, long night. You start to regret to have come.

But Jason comes back soon by your side. You’re surprised about it, you thought he would be the whole time with his friends, just like the other time in Halloween.

“Don’t be silly” he answers with a smile when you tell that to him. “I told you to come to be with you, so why wouldn’t I? Come on, let’s go to dance!”

And you do. And you enjoy it like you’ve never enjoyed anything. You dance with Jason for a good time, laughing and tripping with the other ones as the music goes lively. You forget all your nerves, is like you’re one more, one of them. Like you’re part of something when you’ve been a lonely piece all your life. You’re happy, for once you can tell that.

But happiness isn’t something you deserve.

It’s almost midnight. People is getting ready for the moment. Nerves come to you again, making your stomach twist. The New Year kiss isn’t something that came to your head until now, and you wonder if it’s something you’ll have to see the others do or… You look at Jason. He looks confident at the first sight, but when you see closer, there is some nerves on him too. Could this night evolve in something more for the two of you? Or you’re just imagining things?

Jason solves the mystery for you when the last bell sounds. He leans and kisses you quick and heartily, a fresh kiss in your lips you weren’t expecting and so different from the one you received from the demon.

For a moment, the happiness vanishes. Is the first time of the night you think in Crowley, in the kiss to make the deal you made months ago, and how you remember that kiss almost every night since then. You stroke gently the new scars in your arm, the cuts healed almost completely. Looks like you have to boycott yourself every time you feel something good.

You try to push those thoughts to the deepest part of your head for the rest of the night.

The kiss isn’t unnoticed for the rest of the people. Having one of the most handsome guys on the party kissing the weird girl is something that wouldn’t be unnoticed anywhere, but nothing bad comes out from that, or at least that’s what you think. The boys howl like the idiots they are but Jason laughs and makes them shut up like is something usual. The girls laugh with him, and that seems to be all.

Some minutes later, Lily approaches to you, a couple of drinks in her hands. Your body tenses automatically but she smiles and hands one of the drinks to you.

“Just don’t be a kid, ok? Some vodka won’t make you any pain” she says, putting her best effort on sounding kind.

You take the glass she’s offering and mutter a thank you. She’s about to turn and leave, but she stops before that.

“You know, it’s curious Jason has chosen you for this night. We always thought he was gay” she shrugs and smiles.

“Why?” you’re asking before you can realize, taking a good sip from the drink. That words made something itch in your head.

Lily smiles even more, that kind of smile people has when they’re being gossip. Or planning something. She just approaches. “For what we know, he never dated someone before. Just assumed girls weren’t what he liked. It’s curious to see how wrong someone can be sometimes.”

That leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth. What if Jason only brought you there to have a cover? Maybe he’s not ready to tell everyone he’s gay and he just needs some more time to…

Damn Lily.

“Oh, come on, don’t worry, I’m sure he likes you” he fakes concern, but you don’t care, you’re drinking again just to take that away. Maybe you should take it easier, you’re not used to drink like this. “And probably you’re made for each other. You’re his first, he’s your first…”

“He’s not my first” damn, Alma, why the hell don’t you shut up? Why can’t you leave your pride behind and try to not tell something compromised? But it’s too late, that gets Lily’s attention and now she’s curious. You drink again. You shouldn’t but you do. A warm tickling runs through all your body.

“He’s not your first kiss?” she asks. You shake your head, not wanting to talk about it, but it’s too late for that. “Oh, you have to tell me now. Don’t you want us to be friends? Who was your first kiss?”

“Not of your business” you say, walking away in a bad mood, not sure if it’s because of Lily or thinking about Crowley too much tonight. You’re almost at the center of the dance floor when Lily catches you.

“Hey! I’m sorry” she says. She’s grabbing your arm and the apology was a surprise that avoided you to leave again. “I’m really gossip, you know, I want to know everything from everybody.”

“I get it” you answer. You’re starting to feel a little dizzy, and your glass is empty. Maybe drinking hasn’t been a good choice.

“But I really meant it when I said I want to be friends” she makes a face which tries to be cute but you can’t tell it’s a real face or a fake one. “Whoever is in friends with Jason deserves a chance. For that, I’m apologizing for all what we’ve made to you.”

This sounds too good to be true, but you’re not in the best conditions to think. What she said really shocked you and, if she’s being honest, you don’t want to be the one being a dick. Maybe this is the night that changes your life for better. To be the girl your mother wants you to be, with friends, a social life, a boyfriend…

“Ehr… Thank you…” You say, not really sure. “I guess I… accept…”

You hear a creek somewhere above your head and when you see Lily stepping back it’s too late. The liquid is already all over you, too dark, too cold, too dirty. Your hair is now a mess, your dress is not going to be the same again, you almost slip with your heels to the ground all covered with _blood._ The laughs come to your ears once again, like you’re used, but this time hurts even more. You’re confused, at first, angry at the end. Nothing of this was true, nothing. With tears in your eyes, you see around yourself how everybody is laughing.

Everybody except Jason.

“You know, I thought using blood for the second time was going to be repetitive” you hear Roy shouting and laughing from somewhere in the room “but Carrie is a classic, and this didn’t disappoint.”

Everybody laughs again and you walk to the door. Doesn’t matter who is behind you, all of them are crap. You’re already out, cool air of the night making the blood dry faster. You don’t care about where to go, you just want to get away from there.

“Alma!” Jason voice calls you from behind. “Alma! Wait!”

“WHY?” you shout to him, feeling betrayed. Tears start to fall from your eyes but you don’t care. This time you don’t care if anyone sees you cry because you’re actually tired of all of them.

“You’re far from home, let me at least…”

“No” you interrupt him. “I don’t want ANYTHING from you, ANYTHING.”

“I didn’t know what they were going to do, I wouldn’t let him. Alma, please, wait.”

He sounds sad, worried, and when you stop and turn back to see him, he actually looks like that, but you’re not swallowing that again. The cute boy with tender eyes, you’re not going to be the fool girl again. Doesn’t matter if you have to walk through half the village until home with all the blood covering you, you don’t want to be near to him.

“Hadn’t I suffered enough already? Leave me alone!” he doesn’t say anything back this time, he’s just there, waiting to you to change your mind, but that doesn’t happen. “I don’t want to see you again. Don’t you dare to talk to me, to breathe in my direction. The next time you want another girl to fool go for one of those ridiculous pussies that are after you. Forget that I exist, forget EVERYTHING and leave me alone.”

You start to walk again, but this time Jason’s steps don’t follow you. Street after street, you keep walking, fortunately nobody can see you because everybody is at their respective parties. You arrive to the park, all dark and terrifying at this time of the night, and you walk into the darkness until you arrive to the bench you use to sit when you go there. You cry alone there, venting out and cursing every single one of them, blaming yourself for being the fool who trusted one of the popular guys. What were you thinking about? Jason is in friends with the people who’s making your life impossible. Why should he feel anything about you?

It takes you some minutes to realize you’re not alone anymore. When you look up, Crowley is there, a few steps from you, watching you with a sad expression in his face. He’s watching all the mess they made to you. He’s watching the stupid girl covered in pig blood and tears shivering in a bench at the park. He’s probably watching how pathetic you are. But he looks sad, he looks _sad._

“Hello, kiddo” he says, sadness infecting the voice you’ve missed so much during all those months and you thrown away for the wrong choice.

But that’s all what you need to get on your feet and walk the few distance that’s separating you. You get lost in his arms, not expecting him to hug back that quickly and easier. You cry over him, over his soft suit jacket and he just strokes your head, not caring about it being covered with blood. You just stay there, in the middle of the darkness, hugging the demon who smells like old whiskey and soft male cologne. You stay there, surrounded by his arms and scent, crying until your tears are dry, and adding a new name to the list you had long time abandoned.

 ~~Cindy Allen~~ , Lily Andrews, ~~Remy Gallagher~~ , Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, Roy Patterson, Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly _, Jason Collins_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long absence guys, really, I'm on finals and I practically live at college x.x I've been very busy and very tired, I hope this is worth the long time.


	7. The demon on my shoulder

It’s hard, but you finally separate from Crowley when you’re more calmed. He tries to clean some of the blood on your face which has mixed with your tears, but that only makes him get dirty too. He sighs, staring at his now dirty toe.

“Sorry” you apologize.

“If I weren’t used to get some blood in my hands I won’t own the status I do” he puts his other arm around your shoulders, keeping you warm since you left your jacket at the bar with those fuckers. “Back to home?” he asks.

“No” you don’t want to go back there, is not going to make you feel better, and there are a lot of possibilities you end up in the bathroom adding new cuts to the collection. “Anywhere but home.”

He tightens his hand on your shoulder, a sign that he understands, and the next second you’re in another place. You blink a couple of times before your eyes get used to the light. It’s a big, elegant room, mahogany furniture, big windows covered with beige velvet curtains and the biggest bed you’ve ever seen with the most comfortable appearance. A big glass lamp is hanging majestically from the ceiling, lighting all the room in a way you couldn’t expect from a single light, besides the chimney which lights when Crowley snaps his fingers. There are a few paintings hanging from the walls, you recognize _The Kiss_ by Klimt, but you’re not familiar with the others. This must be the best place ever. How many can cost spend a night in a room like this?

There are two doors, Crowley points one of them.

“Take a shower, it will make you feel better besides cleaning up all this mess” he says. “I’ll go to find you some clothes.”

“Don’t” you quickly say. “I… feel better if… you’re around.”

You blush, but the blood on your face cover it so Crowley doesn’t see it. It might sound ridiculous but you’re afraid you could harm yourself if Crowley isn’t around, like the last time. The demon sighs and starts to unbutton his jacket, and after that his t-shirt. You wonder why until you get distracted by the tattoos he has on his arms. They’re like a part of those tattoos the yakuza wear, but in the arms instead of the back. Chinese dragons fit him in a way you couldn’t have imagined before. Then, you start to notice the rest of his torso, like it’s the first time you see a man naked –well, actually it is. He’s a little chubby, but that just fits him and doesn’t make him less attractive. He walks to the bathroom door and leaves the white t-shirt hanging from the knob. Then, ignoring the way you’re looking at him, he turns to you again.

“Wear that for now, I’ll be fine. You’ll be ok if I’m just at the other side of the door meanwhile?”

You nod silently, feet on the ground again, and mutter a thank you. After getting barefoot and throwing the heels to one of the corners of the room, you get into the bathroom, leaving Crowley sited in one of the armchairs, trying not to think that he’s half naked right now.

Inside the bathroom you start to undress. The truth is you’re a little uncomfortable at the beginning, too much white and clean when you’re all dirty, but once you’re used to everything in the room, is easier. You leave your dirty clothes in a basket located specially for that, you turn on the shower and the water is warm almost at the moment. First, water runs red, and it takes three times soaping to make it run transparent at last. You make sure your hair is completely clear and after what seems forty minutes under the water you’re ready to leave. Only thinking about what happened makes you feel anxious, so you try to avoid it for now. You know how it will end if you don’t take control now. Crowley was right, a warm shower made you feel better after all.

The t-shirt is long enough to cover all the necessary, but the sleeves are quite annoying. You roll them up until your elbows. You still barefoot, but that never was a problem to you. After combing your hair, you’re ready to go back to the room.  Crowley is still there, legs crossed and playing with his fingers while waiting for you. When he hears you going out, he just stares, he stares like he never did before, and that makes you feel like you’re completely naked. It’s probably nothing, because seriously, he’d never think about you like that.

“You feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah… Thank you.” You go to sit at the couch opposite to his armchair, covering the most you can when you do it and ignoring the way Crowley tries not to look. You end up sitting while hugging your legs, looking at the lighted chimney. “I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me nothing, kiddo” Crowley answers, getting up and going to the mini bar. He starts to serve two glasses of whiskey. You’re about to tell him you don’t drink, but due to circumstances maybe you should try. He goes to sit next to you, so close your knees almost touch his thigh, and hands you one of the drinks.

“I do” you take the glass and look at it, like the ice melting with the alcohol is the most interesting thing in the world. “And, as always… You came when I needed.”

You want to say that you were wrong, that you still want to kill those fuckers, to make them suffer and that you added a new name to the list. But he already knows. You don’t need words, he knows. That’s the thing you most love about him, he can understand you without any word. He doesn’t judge.

At this point, you don’t care a shit if you need professional help because you’re in love with a demon.

“Do you want me to go and ruin their party?” he offers. It looks like an honest offer and you can’t but smile at it. Your first sincere smile of the night. “You know I can do that.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t” you say. “I’m dying for it but let them have fun. Let them relax.” You stare at your left arm, the one with the recent cuts. They made you do that, you can’t forget that. You can’t forgive that. “They won’t see us coming.”

Crowley looks proud for the first seconds. Then, he realizes what you are looking at and takes your arm pulling it gently to him. The touch makes you sigh in surprise and even when is the first time you allow someone to see your cuts you don’t try to pull back. He knows they’re there. You allow him to watch every single scar in your skin, noticing that his eyes are caught in the new ones, the ones that he didn’t realized you had until now.

“These are recent” he’s not asking. He knows. You look at him in the eyes and, far from being scared, you nod. He looks like he’s trying to remember and suddenly he reacts. “It was because I didn’t appear?”

Honestly, you can’t remember why.

He looks so hurt, so guilty, he’s about to throw his glass away. Instead of that, he leaves it on the table, but his rage isn’t unnoticed by you. Since you don’t want to ruin the couch fabric, you do the same with yours before you place yourself closer to the demon. Crowley doesn’t move, still too much focused in feeling the most guilty as possible, but when you put your free hand over the hand he has over your other arm, his eyes return to you.

“They did this to me” you say, trying to sound as firm as possible. “Them, not you.”

You don’t know what else to say, but he looks so worried you try to find the words. You still thinking this can’t be happening, no one can worry this much about you, but he’s actually doing it. If an hour ago you hadn’t been covered by pig blood it would be a really good night. The feeling of having someone caring about makes some warm feelings being born inside you, feelings you thought you’ve never been able to have.

“Then every… single… one… of them…” he separates every word with emphasis “deserves the worst of the tortures.” His free hand slips between strands of your hair, stroking gently your cheek like it’s made of porcelain. “Nobody will dare to hurt you again” he approaches, gently. “I’m going to make you a goddess for them…” You’re almost nose to nose. You can feel his breath in your mouth.

“And I will push them to hell” you end for him.

You surrender to it, you surrender to the kiss you’ve been waiting all this time. He’s tender at the beginning, just his lips touching your lips, but you want him closer, you need him closer. Your hand searches for him and cups the back of his head pushing him gently to you, but you need more. In a few moves, you’ve managed to sit over his lap, your knees touching the backrest of the couch. His hands are settled over your back, pushing you closer to him. You don’t complain, you want to be closer, always closer. He tries to keep his kisses slow and caring, but it’s obvious it’s getting difficult for him to take control. After a few attempts, he finally goes away, not really far since he’s trapped between you and the couch, but enough for you to get the message.

“This can’t be what you want” he says. You look at his eyes, the most beautiful brown eyes you’ve ever seen, and you can see pain. You wonder why he is suffering with this, why he would feel any pain for being with someone like that.

“Nobody worried about what I wanted before” you mutter, taking one of his hands and pulling it gently against your chest. “I’m always there but they can’t see me.” You rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes with the move. “Nobody sees me, just you.”

And that seems to be enough to make him wrap his arms around your body and hug you like nobody hugged you before, his head resting now on your chest. You hug him back, feeling the warmth of his back against the skin of your arms and his hair tickling you when you rest your cheek over his head.

Perfection must be this.

After that night, is like a light has turned on inside you. Knowing that there is someone who really cares about you changes the way you look at everything. Is not that you call Crowley your “boyfriend”, maybe that word is too much for you, and is not like you’re together… It’s more like you belong to him and, in some way, he belongs to you too, and it’s enough to keep going. Something subtle enough to change your life and don’t freak out about it.

When Crowley took you back to your house just snapping his fingers, still without covering his chest, your mother was too drunk and passed out on the couch to notice that you weren’t around until then and you’re wearing a man’s t-shirt instead of any of your clothes. You mutter a quick farewell and he’s gone as quick as he appeared at the park before. You curl up on your bed trying to sleep but you can’t but think about what happened before.

The following days aren’t worth to mention. Your mom is recovering from her hangover, you are trying to avoid the uncomfortable memories about the party reading something, drawing and blogging, anything that keep that away. It’s after dinner when you go back to your room and notice a folded black dress on your bed with a piece of paper over it which says “Like nothing ever happened”. You smile and fold the note, leaving it on your desk. The dress is clean again and ready to be used, and when you put it inside your closet, you feel that little feeling of revenge blooming inside you again.

Is the day before you’re going back to classes when Crowley comes to visit. This time, he’s wearing the whole suit plus a black coat which makes you wonder if demons can feel changes in the weather like humans do. Looking to him, you remember those tattoos hidden under all that fabric, being a part of him, his skin.

You were expecting a tense situation between you, but is like that new status in your relationship has been always there and you didn’t notice until now. He cups your jaw gently in a tender gesture and that makes you blush. Fortunately, he chooses to ignore that.

“Have you decided what you want to do?” he asks.

“Yes” you nod, hating to break the contact with his hand, but going to your desk to take the notebook where you were writing your ideas about what a good punishment could be. You ended up planning a good one, and you know who’s going to be the first one.

“Ok. When do we get started?”

You smile.

x

Roy Patterson is coming back from his training. He finds all the house’s lights off, so he guesses his family must still be at the cinema. His little sister insisted so much about it that his parents couldn’t deny her that. He would never admit, but he’s really proud of that little brat. Being insistent was his way to achieve things his parents wouldn’t give him in other way. It must be in the genes.

He leaves his sport bag next to the laundry room and goes upstairs to have a nice and warm shower. When Roy tries to turn on the light of the bathroom he notices _something_ is wrong, and when the door closes suddenly after him he realizes that is too late.

x

“I’ve gotta say, you surprised me. You made him scream more than some of my demons would be able to.” Crowley says while you wash your hands on the sink trying to take the blood off.

“I was very resentful.” You shrug. “I wanted to get my hands dirty for once.”

Crowley is still watching the corpse you left on the tub like he’s evaluating your job and is going to give you a mark soon. You don’t regret anything you did. You have to admit you were nervous at the beginning, but Crowley promised you like ten times that he _won’t_ let anything going wrong. The first stab, in his lower back so he could stay alive during the time he was going to be tortured, was the most difficult one. You’ve never stabbed anyone before. The feeling was _weird_ , pushing a sharp knife against someone, feeling how his meat was being crossed and the painful scream he let go. It took you a little to realize _you_ were the one making _that_ happen. After that, you pushed him against the tub, making him trip and fall, and with a single snap, Crowley took his clothes off. Having Roy feeling like that, scared, confused and humiliated, made you start to feel that ticklish feeling you felt with Cindy’s death again.

He recognized you when you were closer enough to cut his cheek. You wanted that, you don’t want to hide from them anymore. You don’t fear them. They should fear you. And like that, you started to make cuts here and there, sinking the point of the knife more at some spots you know that are more painful than others. You made him scream, to beg mercy, to beg for his life, to beg for it to stop. At the end he was just whispering “Alma… please… Alma…” and with that, you took his last breath with a single stab at his heart. You were almost done. Under Crowley’s surprised eyes, you sank two fingers in his wound and, with his blood, you wrote “CHEATER” in big at the white wall.

“How do you feel now?” Crowley asks while you dry your now clean hands on your shirt, looking with him at your work.

“Satisfied” you answer. It’s true. This ended up being a good way to vent, and for once, you feel free.

But inside you, there is the urge need of something more.

With another snap, you’re back at home again, in your gray nightdress and barefoot, like you never left your room. You do what you agreed with Crowley before and make sure your mother notices and will remember your presence at home. This is something crucial. What you did to Roy was a murder, not an accident, you don’t want to hide his death like that, so probably when the police start to ask for enemies, you will probably be on the list. “The weird girl we use to make her life impossible and we covered with pig blood in New Year’s Eve? Yeah she could probably have killed him.” No, thanks.

So, you walk around the living room, where you mother is trying to watch his program at the tv, with some chocolate in your hand until she notices. She starts to yell at you and takes the chocolate away from you. You don’t bother in feeling offended, it worked quite well and you can now walk back to your room with a smirk on your face.

“Will she remember you were here today?” Crowley asks once you’ve closed the door behind you.

“Of course she will” you answer, eating the piece of chocolate you achieved to hide from her in the last minute. “She’s always trying to keep my skin clean of pimples so ‘I can become beauty’, but chocolate didn’t make appear a single one yet, I’m always eating it when she’s not looking, so I guess she just wants to be a bitch” You shrug and lay on your bed looking to the ceiling.

“What a stupid thing” Crowley answers, sitting next to you. He has left his black coat and the suit jacket on your chair making himself comfortable, so he’s in his t-shirt now. “You’re already a beautiful girl. She’s stupid if she can’t see it.”

He’s running his fingers through the road of scars you have on the thigh that is closer to him. You’ve never told him he’s the first one touching your scars, but you can guess he figured out somehow. It’s something warm and tender, it makes you feel better and you don’t want him to stop.

“Are you going to be ok tonight?” he asks, breaking the comfortable silence that was created between you.

“Uhm, yeah, I guess” you answer. You’re more than fine now, why should you have to be in other mood tonight?

“Are you sure you’re not going to freak out at midnight because you killed a guy today?”

Oh. That.

“Why should I?” You ask, trying to hide the sudden worry that came to you, which is fucking stupid because you have that damn bond with Crowley.

“I know you feel great now, but you still have adrenaline in your organism. When that ends, then what? Is easy to break your defenses in that way, especially when this is your first time.” Crowley is staring at the wall in front of him when you raise your head a little to watch him, but his hand is still on your thigh, like if the contact with you makes him more confident, less confused, less anxious. “I’m just going to ask this once, so you better well think your answer.” You could swear you just saw him blush. “Do you want me to stay tonight?”

Yeah, like you need to think about that.

“Stay” you say.

It’s stupidly obvious that you were going to answer that, and he knows it. Probably is because of that you just saw a little smirk on his face before he turns to you.

“Then you should get into bed now. You have classes tomorrow, do you remember?”

You roll your eyes, but you obey. You make room between blankets for yourself and, when you search for the demon with your eyes, you find him taking the rest of his suit off, hanging around just with his boxers on. Ok, you weren’t expecting that, and you blush so hard you have to turn off the light before he realizes.

“Oh, come on kiddo!” He exclaims. But instead of annoyed, he sounds funny, so any anxiety you might feel has vanished completely.

You feel his warm body making comfortable next to you. Is the first time you’re going to sleep with someone, and his mere presence is enough to make you feel safer against any horror you could suffer at night. You hesitate before you make room for yourself against his chest, and when his arm rests around you, you start to feel really, really tired. It’s been a long time since you slept with a smile on your face.

The next morning, when you wake up, Crowley is still there, proving that you didn’t dream anything about the last evening. He leaves to give you some privacy meanwhile you get prepared, but he’s waiting for you at the corner of the street to walk with you to the high school.

You stop at the corner of the street again. There is a couple of police cars parked at the gates. Shit, that soon are they going to start to interrogate people? Your stomach starts to hurt, and it’s more than obvious for Crowley that you don’t want to step inside and face the police that soon. At least, not without his presence.

“Do you want to skip your classes today?” he asks, knowing exactly what you were thinking at the moment.

“I wouldn’t mind to” you answer. You wanted to watch the faces of the bunch of idiots today, but it can wait until tomorrow if that can assure your safety.

Crowley doesn’t say anything back. He just snaps his fingers.

And then, you’re in front of that café at Vancouver he brought you time ago. You didn’t expect him to remember that place, you barely thought about it during the lasts months, but, judging the face he makes while looking at it, seems like it’s a special place for him.

Once in and after a good second breakfast, you feel a lot better. Nerves went out long ago, but Crowley ‘s presence makes everything better. But now, instead of happy, he looks a little concerned, and that pricks your little bubble of happiness.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“You do remember the deal, do you?” he asks back, looking at you. You swallow and nod. Of course you do. “Then you know what I have to do know.”

“Take a year” you answer, cold, like that first time he brought you to that very same place, a tense knot in your stomach. “Is that really necessary? I mean… You’ve seen how they treat me… Do I have to pay anyway?”

You know the answer before it comes out from his lips.

“Yes, and I’m really sorry for that.” He sighs, like if it’s really costing him a big effort having that conversation. “A deal is a deal, and once made, not even I can undo or re-do the terms.”

You understand that, but is so fucking unfair… That makes you want to cry but you hold it. You don’t want to be a brat who doesn’t deal with the consequences of what she made. Grow up, Alma. This is what brought you here in the first place.

“You can stop in your murders if you want to keep your years, that stills being part of the deal. Is not like I’m going to take your soul now, you know that.” He still stares at you with those brown eyes that you love on him, but he looks sad. You don’t want him to be sad. He has given you a good thing, a revenge, an identity. You don’t want to be the ungrateful kid either.

“Once I’ve finished my years, I’ll become a demon, true?” you ask.

“True” he nods.

“So, I’ll be able to stay by your side, and I won’t have to stay bonded to that stupid village, true?”

He hesitates, confused, before answering.

“True.”

“Take the year” you say. “Take it. I don’t care. The plan remains the same.” Crowley’s smile starts to bloom again on his face, his eyes full of pride and it’s all due to you. You don’t care if you die young, you couldn’t care less about it if Crowley is waiting for you at the other side when the moment arrives.

 ~~Cindy Allen~~ , Lily Andrews, ~~Remy Gallagher~~ , Becky Summers, Dawn Sanders, ~~Roy Patterson~~ , Richard Finn, Josh Carver, Jeremy Carver, Oliver Tilly _,_ Jason Collins.

Look, mom, I’m going to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being this missing guys but I was on finals and then I started vacation and just wanted to relax. I promise I'll try to write more and being less lazy, I just wanted to rest some time before coming back to the battle.  
> Stay safe <3 And thanks for reading.


	8. Ashes to ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some little smut, I hope you don't mind.

The air at the high school has changed. Nobody talks at the classes, the teachers try to focus but it’s obvious they’re distracted, at the corridors, nobody screams, the students mutter and whisper. The word “cheater” is in everybody’s mouth. If the second day of classes is like this, you wonder how must have been the first one. You’re hanging around your locker, waiting for some faces you want specifically to see. Maybe it will be better not being anxious for it, but you’re dying to see how they face another of his friends’ death. It’s the third in this school year, and will not be the last one.  
Is not until you’re at chemistry at second hour that you see one of them. Dawn is withered, deep puffiness under her eyes and red nose and cheeks, signs that she’s been crying. She’s late to class, and when she takes her sit, you notice she’s trembling like a leaf. That makes born a feel of satisfaction difficult to describe.   
That feeling isn’t unknown by the rest of the day. When you casually find Lily and Becky at the corridor, they’re as messed up as Dawn is. Maybe Lily shows signs of being better than them, but that’s still not enough to mist your good mood. And the boys aren’t better. The twins aren’t smiling as always, Oliver isn’t at the high school today and you haven’t seen Jason yet. Maybe it’s better like that. Thinking about how Jason betrayed you stills hurting, you don’t know how you would react if you see him now.  
You’re going to your next class, not really paying attention to the people surrounding you, until you watch them. They’re leaving the principal’s office, one of them is tall as fuck, his hair longer than his partner, who looks around like teenagers aren’t really his thing. Both are wearing formal suits, too serious to just be municipal employees. The principal is at the door with them, talking seriously. This is new, this might have something to do with Roy and it can be useful if you listened to it. You quickly walk to the corridor turning to the right; the office is at the corner, so you can hear from there without being seen.   
“Sorry for the misunderstanding before, agents, I thought the police had already finished with the students already. I didn’t think the FBI would be interested in a case like this” the principal says. “It’s sad, is the third student we lose this school year. Looks like this high school can’t get over the mourning.”  
“We’ve listened the other two were accidental deaths. Can you give us some details?”  
“Well, since I wasn’t present, I only know what the official version says. Some of our students were, but I would like to you leave them mourn their friend for now.”  
“Do you understand this is now a government’s case?”  
“I understand, officers” the principal sounds like he’s trying to do his bests to keep his anger inside. You didn’t expect him to defend his students like that. “But, since you can’t speak with them without their parents being present, I think is better to leave them alone for now. Come back with an order and I will pleasantly give you a list of names. So, if you don’t have any more questions, we’re done for today.”  
You hear how the door closes and a sigh coming from one of the agents.   
“What a dick, don’t you think?” one of them says.  
“Maybe he’s trying to hide something?”  
They start to walk and is time for you to move. Maybe they won’t notice you were listening, you only need to act normal, as another student, but just thinking about being face to face with them makes your stomach ache and feel dizzy. That wouldn’t be very normal. Their steps are getting closer, so you run and hide after the first door you can find, which it ends up to be the boy’s bathroom. Lucky you, it’s empty. You sigh in relief, but it lasts little when you hear their voices behind the door. How many chances are that they have to enter there?   
You run to the toilet at the very end and close the door just when they open the other one. As silently as you can, you step over the dirty toilet. Seriously, how can guys be this fucking disgusting? There is piss everywhere and it smells like a dead cat, but you hold it on for your own sake.  
“I’m just saying that maybe he knows something more about it. I don’t trust high school principals.”  
“Because you spent a lot of time in their office as a child, Dean, grow up. It’s normal he wants to keep his students privacy or the parents would eat him.”  
“I’m just saying it’s suspicious.”  
You can almost imagine the other one rolling his eyes. You can’t portray them being the typical FBI agents, they’re supposed to be serious, aren’t they? Also, they look like the kind of guys from a TV show.  
“Do you know what’s suspicious? One of the girls dying at a party in memory of the girl who died first. And this guy being killed in that horrible way months after, nobody seeing anything? Sounds like vengeful spirit for me. Maybe he was the responsible of those two deaths, or maybe just one, who knows, or maybe there are more people involved and it didn’t end the job yet.”  
“So you’re saying we need to make visit to the graveyard tonight?”  
“Salt&burn, old style.”  
What the hell are they talking about? Vengeful spirit? What kind of FBI agents are they? Does this have anything to do about what Crowley warned her time ago?  
“Ok, I hope you’re right and we can leave this stupid place tomorrow. Honestly, I’m expecting to watch Carrie appear any time soon.”  
“Seriously Dean? Are you going into easy jokes?”  
“Bite me. Leave me alone, I want to piss.”  
You hear a sigh and the door opening, so you guess one of them has left. You curse and swear in your head; your knees are starting to ache for being in that uncomfortable posture, back against the door, feet over the toilet, and this smell is fucking disgusting. A zip sound announces the longest and most intense piss of your life, and it’s not even yours. You almost sigh in relief when you hear the door opens.  
“Hey Sam! Why don’t we search a good place for lunch? I’m starving dude.”  
And that seems all. You remain in silence and keeping the posture in case of any of them getting back. After a couple of minutes, your heart has calmed down and you get down the toilet. Your hands and knees are trembling, and you still can’t believe what you just heard. What kind of people are these two? It’s obvious that they are not from the FBI… Unless the FBI has the X files department.   
One thing is sure, they’re going to be at the graveyard tonight. And they want to leave tomorrow. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?  
You’re about to leave when you hear the door opening again, so you quickly come back to your earlier posture, cursing mentally again. What’s going on now?  
“Hey man, those guys are freaking serious, aren’t they?” it’s one of the Carver twins voice.  
“Yeah, the FBI, what did Roy do? I knew he was in something about drugs but I didn’t think it was this fucking level of serious” the other twin replies.  
Why aren’t you surprised about Roy being involved in something like that?  
“Dude, do you think it has something to do with Richard?”  
“Dunno, man, they were fighting lately but… I don’t see Richard killing someone just because a girl they both want to fuck, do you?”  
“Yeah, I guess… Maybe was our little sweet Carrie” both of them laugh and you can’t but keep your rage for yourself.  
“She’s that type of girl” and laughter again. “Nah, seriously, man, she doesn’t have the balls. She wouldn’t cut anything but her arms.”  
Those last laughter are like knifes. Your blood starts to boil inside you and you bit your lower lip just to keep yourself invisible. How bad would it be if you killed them both while the not-the-FBI guys are still on the building?  
“C’mon man, or we’ll be late” one of them says when the laughter end. “I’ve pissed enough Mss Fidgseamons, don’t wanna be on the edge again.”  
“You’re a jerk, you’ll fail anyway.”  
But they go. As their laughter goes lower as they go through the corridor, your breath calms down again. This time, nobody comes in, so you can get out of the smelly toilet. You look at yourself at the mirror. They see you as a kind of Carrie, not just the twins, but the whole high school. Even those agents think there is a Carrie. That doesn’t mean they think it’s you, but who else is going to be?  
Your reflection stares at you. Yeah, maybe you look weak from outside, maybe you were weak time ago, but not since you met Crowley. The demon has turned you in another person, stronger, more confident, able to do anything they think you can’t do. You’re pale, as Carrie is, maybe, and you’re weird, like Carrie, and nobody likes both of you. Similarities are obvious, but there’s another thing Carrie and you have in common, a thing none of them has noticed, just you. Carrie is a vengeful spirit, and now, you too.  
You take a black marker from your bag, the one you use to write things with in your locker. You know you don’t have to react to them in high school, Crowley has repeated that to you like a hundred times, but you can’t just let them go with that stupid smile. You write a big “C” in the mirror, followed by an “H”, an “E”… The word “CHEATERS” is quite visible now, to show them what they are, a bunch of liars, social scum, actual cheaters.  
Once at home, when you go back to your room to start with your homework, you’re not surprised of Crowley being there waiting for you. You’re used to it, and sometimes is a nice surprise instead the awful ones you used to have at the beginning of the deal. You give him a smile, as usual, but he doesn’t smile back.  
“What have I told you about bursting at school?” he asks. You know exactly what he’s talking about.  
“I’m tired of being the weird girl who can’t defend herself” you answer, shrugging. You know he’s felt your rage through the bond you share, and probably the little satisfaction after writing at the mirror. Is not that difficult to guess.  
“I know you’re pissed, and that’s exactly why we’re doing what we do. Can you just be patient?” He stares at you, you can see he’s annoyed, and that’s not unfamiliar to you. Everybody is annoyed when you’re around, even your own mother. Why should Crowley be different? Doesn’t matter that he kisses you from time to time. He’s a demon. He can take what he wants from you and you won’t be able to say anything back. “What was that?” he asks then, obviously talking about the pain you just thought and felt.  
“Why do you ask? You already know.” You drop your bag next to the desktop, any motivation for doing the homework long gone, you just stare at the drawer that contains the book, not thinking in anything concrete, just how that stupid book changed your life. You avoid looking at the demon, sure he’s even more upset now. “Can you just leave?”  
No answer is coming and you dare to raise your eyes to his direction. You almost jump when you see he’s right next to you. You’re going to protest but he immediately pushes you against the wall, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath in the tip of your nose. His eyes are staring, intimidating, and your whole body is tense due to the suddenly nerves, but you stare back, scared, hesitant, but also defiant. You deserve worse than what he has planned to you anyways.   
“You don’t notice, do you?” he says, making you frown in confusion. “Of course you don’t because I’m breaking my ass so you can have the safest way to obtain your revenge, the revenge for which you sold your soul, if you can’t remember!”  
“I do!” I notice how a pain in the ass I am, how I can’t handle any near relationship of any kind, those are the words that are stuck in your throat and never come out.  
“No, you don’t” Crowley repeats, no admitting any reply. “You’re so stubborn when it comes to your vengeance that you don’t care about how that makes feel the ones around you, you selfish brat.”  
“Nobody cares!” you say it before you can think about it. Because there is a vague memory in your head, a memory from New Year’s Eve, where the time seemed to stop around you two. And you know you just screwed up.  
“Then why I’m still here?” he asks, his voice going back to his normal tone. “Why am I the one who cares about you don’t get caught? You know a demon can’t guarantee the client’s safety once made the deal. A soul is a soul, it’s just mere accident if we collect it sooner than accorded. Why shouldn’t I leave you by your own?”  
He lets you go, his expression being disgusted by something. You think it’s because of you, you disappointed him, you made him angry, you’re such a stupid crying baby who doesn’t deserve the air you’re breathing. But when you’re about to give up on yourself, Crowley continues talking.  
“Feeling human… Is feeling weak. I hate feeling weak. I’m happy, then not anymore, then I get angry because anything and after that sad, afraid and sorry at the same time. I hate it.” You watch him, having no idea of what he’s talking anymore. He steps a few distance and then he’s giving his back to you. “But nothing of that matter because…” he stops, like regretting about what the conversation turned to be.  
“Because…?” you push him a little, wanting to know how all this nonsense talk ends.  
“You” he answers, turning to face you again. During the following seconds, he remains in silence while you process what he just said. “You make all that stupid sentimentalism worth of living.”  
“That’s… Is this… Because of the bond?” You have to ask it because it can’t mean what it seems to mean. This can’t be. Can’t. You’re not worth of it, you’re not worth of any caring person in your life. You don’t deserve to be loved.  
“No” he shakes his head slowly, a sad smirk on his face. “I didn’t plan to say this to you any time soon, I thought you would lose any respect you have to me.” He laughs at himself, like a joke only understood by him. “The king of Hell having human feelings? That’s not such a thing someone would respect.” A couple of minutes in silence again, you waiting for him to continue, he thinking about how’s the best way for it. “You’re aware that there’re people who don’t like me. They made me… They injected me human blood, in a poor intent to heal me. A poor intent that, in fact, started to work.”  
Inject what? For what? What the hell?  
“You’re not a demon anymore?” you ask, a nonsense question since you know he appeared in your room just with snapping his fingers and that’s not something a human does.  
“I am. I’m not. Maybe. I don’t know. I have my powers, my status…” He sits on your bed and rubs a hand through his hair. “But I also have these stupid feelings, and that’s making the last one being in danger. Nobody wants a sentimental demon as a king.”  
Is the first time in your life you see someone being as done with himself as he is right now, and you feel shame and guilt, because he’s made such a big effort to be caring of you, and you’re so stupid you didn’t see it until now. He’s making everything around him jeopardy just because he’s right there with you.  
“I’m sorry…” you dare to move and kneel in front of him, your hands over his knees, and trying to look up to his face, now buried in his hands in shame. “You should have talked to me. I know I’m not the best in this situation but… You’re the closest one I have, you’ve done a lot for me and I feel like I need to pay it back to you somehow.”  
One of his thumbs slides through your bottom lip, allowing seeing one of those brownish eyes of him. Again, that sad smile across his face, which is more like stab to you.  
“Is not your work” he says.  
“Is not a work” you answer, sliding your hands through the back of his hair to go up for a kiss. He doesn’t resist and pulls you until you’re over his lap, his hands now on your hips, securing you so you can make comfortable without falling.  
You cup his face with your hands, your fingers running through the sharp skin of his jaw due to the stubble and you go for another kiss, deeper, longer, stronger. When you pull apart from each other, Crowley is looking at you, eyes interrogating while his hands go down to your thighs slowly. As an answer, your own hands start to unbutton the first buttons of his t-shirt. Any fear you could have is longer gone, and now it’s just Crowley and you.  
“This can’t be what you want” he says, like in that precious memory you keep for yourself.  
“Again, you’re wrong” and you lean for another kiss.  
Then, suddenly, things are upside down. Somehow you’re with your back against the mattress, Crowley rubbing a hand through your thigh until he arrives to the edge of your pants and starts to pull down, unbuttoning them with the other. You would lie if you say you aren’t nervous, but that doesn’t mean you’re not sure about this. If someone has to take you before you die and become a demon, it has to be him. Just him.   
His hand is firm between your legs, knowing exactly what’s doing. It’s different from when you touch yourself, it’s the knowledge that someone else who’s doing it, that Crowley’s doing it, what makes you shiver, exciting you in a way you couldn’t imagine you would feel in your life. He has you wet after a couple of minutes and he doesn’t hesitate when it’s time to slide a finger inside of you. You’ve experimented before, curious about how it feels, but it’s a completely different thing now. Crowley’s fingers are thick, the opposite from yours, so you aren’t ready for anything he does to you.  
Crowley moves his finger exploring your inside, you’re sure he’s feeling tight since nobody else has entered yet, but he takes his time, his mouth covering yours with passionate kisses while he does his job and slides a second finger. That takes a soft moan from your throat, muted by Crowley’s tongue inside your mouth. You’re not sure about what to do, you’re grabbing the sleeves of his t-shirt desperate, afraid that in any moment he decides to pull apart, but he never does.   
When he slides the third one, it hurts, but the pain you feel is mixed with pleasure, so when he looks at you, a question in his eyes, you nod, sure as you’re never been in your life. You want this, you need this, and it has to be now.  
And then, his fingers are out. You’re about to protest but then there’s something else starting to get in. You aren’t expecting Crowley to be gentle with this, but he does. He doesn’t make a move until he’s sure he’s not hurting you, and even when it hurts, you’re eager for more every time he stops. When he’s completely inside, you’re exhausted, and this just has started. You understand why he’s trying to be gentle, but in this pain there is double the pleasure. He starts to move and that’s even better. You let go soft moans every time he reaches your limit, this being the better feeling in the world.   
Is not longer until you come to the orgasm, and that catches you by surprise. When you do it by yourself, you use to last longer than that, but this time is different, an entire world different. Crowley hisses, losing his concentration, and stops, but you beg him to continue, you can make him happy too, you can resist it even when your skin in that zone has become more sensitive. You beg him to do it even when he’s already on it, you beg him because is the thing you love to do, to beg, to say Crowley’s name until it’s everything in your mind. And then he’s done too. You feel it inside, warm and sticky, and for the first time you feel complete.   
Crowley rest for some minutes over you, until he realizes he might be overwhelming you and moves to collapse by your side. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind having him over you, it feels good, but having a warm body by your side right now feels great too. The demon at your side looks as exhausted as you do, sweat all over his forehead and trying to recover the breath. For being your first time, you’re quite satisfied with the result. You curl against him, your head resting over his chest. If he looks surprised, you don’t know, but he does strokes your hair, wrapping you with his arm during the process.   
So, this is confidence. It feels good.  
You lay like this during some minutes, maybe an hour, who knows, and you could be like this during all the night if it’s necessary, but your stomach barks you to put some food inside it, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. Now, it’s almost dinner time. Crowley snorts a little laugh and you blush when he rubs your hair in a tender gesture.   
“Something to eat, kiddo?”  
“…Maybe” the truth is, you don’t want to move, you’re feeling really good and you’re tired, but hunger is a hard rival to fight against. “But I don’t want you to go.”  
“Who says I’m going?” you don’t need to see him to know that he’s smiling right now. You smile to yourself too, grabbing Crowley’s t-shirt a little tighter. “Come on, get ready, I’m bringing you somewhere nice. But I need you to promise you’ll be discreet from now on.”  
“I promise” you move and lean to leave another kiss on Crowley’s lips and then you get up, realizing how clean and fresh you are now, probably due to some of Crowley’s magic.  
Being half naked around your room with another person inside it’s weird, but since Crowley is taking his time to get dressed again –like he couldn’t do it just snapping his fingers- to give you some time to find some clothes you feel comfortable, you don’t feel weird at all. You end up with another jeans and a jersey. You don’t have a clue of where he’s taking you to dinner, but sure it will be cold. The last thing you grab is a purse you have abandoned in a corner. It’s heavier than it should be, so when you’re checking it and removing whatever it is to make room for your wallet and phone, you find something forgotten, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s a little wood box which you haven’t seen since a party months ago, at Halloween. You must have grabbed the same purse you had that night, the one you left on the floor and never touched again. This wood box belongs to Mr. Allen, and according to the orders you gave to Remy, contains private information about the family. You look at Crowley, who is as curious as you.  
“Well” he shrugs. “I guess we can have dinner later.”


	9. Ballad of Dwight Fry

This is one of those moments when you have to choose. You’re burning in desire to know what’s inside the little box, a box important for the family of the girl who made your life a complete hell. You have something that could humiliate them forever, or even worse than that, and you’re anxious to know what it is, but you look at Crowley, you think about what just happened between you and… you can’t just let this moment slip through your fingers just for a stupid revenge that you can take back at any moment. You shove the box into the purse again and smile to the demon. You owe this to him.

“You promised me to go somewhere nice, so, when are we going?” you say.

That makes him smile briefly. He steps to your direction and offers you his arm. With a comprehensive look and another smile from your own, you take it, and suddenly you’re not in your room anymore. The fresh night air strokes your face and you take a deep breath, enjoying every single second from it. Your legs are hurting due to what happened moments ago, but is a welcome pain you don’t care to have with you, as long as you have Crowley taking your arm with him. At this point, you guessed he would take you to Vancouver again, it has become a familiar place for both and kind of like the first date place, but this time, the surroundings aren’t familiar. Yes, you have high buildings around, but this just doesn’t look like the Canadian city. You look thoughtfully and you guess the silhouette of one of the most famous buildings in the country.

“You brought me to New York!” you exclaim, smiling fondly to him in excitement.

“Smart kiddo” he nods, smiling back. “I knew you always wanted to come.”

That’s true.  You’ve never told that to anybody, but he knows, he always knows. New York was in the top of your list of places to visit before dying. You never thought you could come this soon, even less for a dinner with a date. There’s not a lot to see during the night, but touristic places aren’t your thing, but the night shows. There are a lot of theaters to see, and right now it’s the perfect moment. Crowley must know what you’re thinking, because his smile goes bigger.

“Don’t be eager, first dinner.”

You both go in a walk until you find a place you would like to try. It ends up being an Indian food place, little and good decorated. This kind of places, unknown for most of the people but good service and food, are your favorite. The dinner ends up being great, Crowley makes an effort in talking about things you both can converse about, like some horror films and maybe a TV show or two before moving to books. You avoid talking about the one buried in your drawer, this night is for you two, no plans, no third persons, no witchcraft. For once, you enjoy a night out of home in another one’s company. How strange it is a demon. No, the strange is that you don’t care it is a demon. It’s _your_ demon, _yours_ , and the heat between your legs proves it.

Then, after dinner comes the best part of the night. There is a burlesque show in a theater no far away from there, and when Crowley says you’re going, you almost choke with your own tongue. You love burlesque, you really do, but you’re not sure if you’ll be allowed to be in, but Crowley has that smirk on his face that says that you don’t need to worry about it. It’s weird, but that smirk always works. And he’s right, you have no trouble to get inside the show, maybe because the doorman was under his spell now. The show is fantastic, better than you could imagine, you watch it with your head resting against Crowley’s arm, your hands holding tight, a touch that reminds you that this is real, and sooner than you expected the show is over and you’re out again. Time flies when you’re having fun. Even when it’s a date with a demon.

“Thanks for bringing me here” you say, walking to nowhere holding Crowley’s arm.

“It was time for you to have some fun” the demon answers.

You smile at that. You wish that that night never ends, but it needs to. The fun helped you to distract from the box, but now, that eager tickling comes back and you know you’ll can’t enjoy more time alone with Crowley if you don’t find out what’s inside. You know it, Crowley knows it, and you don’t need to say anything.

Back in your room again, filled with a mix of good feelings you’re not used to have, you’re ready to find out whatever dirty secrets are inside the box. You have it in your hands, and it’s so easy to open it, sitting on your mattress at Crowley’s side, that you’re surprised you delayed it all the night. There are a lot of folded papers inside, all of them hand written by the same person. You take one of them, wondering if this is some kind of blackmail or what.

_Derek,_

_I swear to god this is the last letter I send. This is the last chance I give you to be a part of your baby’s life. The money you’re sending us isn’t enough. Besides, I heard today at work that your wife is pregnant too. You dared to touch her not long enough you did it to me? Are you just going to care about one of your children? I might let the local newspaper know. How is that going to affect to your status?_

_D. S_

Brief but shocking. You weren’t expecting less. It’s evident the anger of the person who wrote it, you wonder if Mr. Allen paid more to keep her silent or if you have on your hands a proof from a murder. You can’t portray Mr. Allen ordering a murder, and that thought makes you shiver suddenly, but the pleasure of knowing that Cindy wasn’t the first daughter is really comforting. You hand the letter to Crowley to read and then you take the next one. This is earlier than the other.

_Derek,_

_She’s crying all the time and I’m alone at home. You should come at least a night to take care of her so I can rest. One of these days I will jump out of the roof or something. Besides, this place is small. I need a house, not a stupid apartment. We can’t grow a girl here._

_You should leave that stupid wife of yours, by the way. I’ve heard she’s spreading bad rumors about you. Does she know about us or you haven’t told her yet? And what do you mean I’m still on denial? I know you still love me._

_I’m waiting._

_D. S_

Seems that the letters were dropped in the box in order they arrived, so you guess the first one should be at the bottom. If you want to keep any coherence in this, that’s the one you should read now. You hand the other letter to the demon while search for the first one. For what you see, you’re not wrong. That seems to be the first one.

_Dear Derek,_

_I know this isn’t the best of situations, I know you’re married, but I miss you so bad. I know that what you have with your wife is false, you do it just for the money. I love you and I know that you love me too, so, why don’t you leave her so we can be together? I don’t care if you don’t have a penny, we’ll work it out._

_Should we meet this Friday? I’ll wait you at the park, under the tree we met the first time, at midnight, so we can have some peace and nobody can see us._

_Always yours,_

_D. S_

_Dear Derek,_

_The other night was perfect, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I’m still missing you. I know we already talked about how you can’t leave your wife, but I still think that you should. You don’t love her as much as you love me! We can figure a way together. I want to meet you again, maybe next weekend?_

_Loving you,_

_D. S_

_Dear Derek,_

_Some great news. I don’t know how to say it soft so here it goes. I’m pregnant! Yes, we’re having a baby, isn’t it exciting? Now you have no excuse for leaving your wife. Wanna meet again. I know you’re busy but I miss you really bad._

_With love,_

_D. S_

And you keep reading, letter after letter, how Mr. Allen doesn’t meet the anonymous woman in months, how she misses him and doesn’t care they can’t meet, how her pregnancy is going, how she thinks it’s going to be a boy, how she still insists in that he should abandon his wife, but Mr. Allen seems to not give a fuck about her. For anyone with eyes, it’s obvious that Mr. Allen didn’t want anything to do with his lover anymore, but she kept insisting. You read how, letter after letter, she even changes the way to write. She doesn’t call him “dear Derek” anymore, and after some more letters, she doesn’t send her love. At the end, just seem like letters sent by an obsessed stalker. You feel curious about who she could be, if you know her or you knew her in the past, if it was some woman you crossed ways before or if you will meet her on the future.

You have in your hands the last letter –besides the other two you read at the beginning- and is not longer a mystery how it ends, but you feel the need to keep reading. The letters aren’t longer and not a big deal to read, so what matters if you read one more?

_Derek,_

_It’s a girl. It’s a shame for me, I know I should have given you a boy, it’s what you deserve. But it’s a girl, and it’s here, and I can’t help with that. I hope you can come to see us at the hospital. I still think you’ll come. You can’t leave me now that I have your baby. You want to see her, she has your eyes._

_I will need some help taking care of her, I can’t handle all the bills alone. Having a baby is expensive._

_Also, I was thinking some names for her. Maybe Alma is a good name? I’m not good at this._

_Tell me something._

_D. S_

You think your blood has turned ice in your veins. You’re barely aware that Crowley takes the letter from your hands because you’re still trying to understand what you just read. These letters… No, it can’t be possible. Your mother couldn’t… But…How? This is why never talks about your father? This is how he achieved to have this house besides she’s a single mom? This is why she doesn’t give a fuck about your life because you’re related with his other daughter? What the actual hell?

“This… This can’t be possible” you hear your voice saying, but you’re not aware that is you who is talking.

“It is” Crowley says, little surprise in his voice. He takes one of your hands, softly. “Do you want some water?”

“No…” Derek Allen is your father. Derek Allen is your father. Derek Allen is your fucking father. How many times you’ll have to repeat it until you truly believe in it? So, Cindy was your half-sister? You killed your half-sister?

You look at the letter again. D. S. Of course, Debby Surley, clear as water. You can see your mother’s name clear now.

“Kiddo, you should take it easy” Crowley says. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like what?” you laugh, almost with hysteria. Usually, Crowley’s touch is enough to calm you down, but this time is different, this time isn’t working enough. It only makes you feel even more anxious and you have to free your hand from him. “This only changes my _whole_ existence, why should it make a difference in my life?”

“Keep calm, kiddo…”

“And why aren’t you more surprised?” You look at him, suddenly, in realization. “Wait, you knew it?” He doesn’t answer and his eyes evade yours. You can’t fucking believe it. “YOU _KNEW_ IT?”

“Why do you think I made you go to that house to start with?” Crowley answers. You get on your feet and walk around your room trying to not beat anything, which is really difficult because you’re burning in anger. “I thought this was something you needed to know and you wouldn’t believe me if I just told you. But you forgot about the box, and I…”

“And you what?” You feel hurt, you feel betrayed. How could one of the best nights you had turn into this kind of living nightmare? “I can’t believe you did this to me.”

“I didn’t do anything!” The demon gets on his feet too, showing emotions for the first time. Now you feel even more anger, but not for the same reasons, like if that anger wasn’t yours, but someone else. “Stop bursting in words you don’t feel just to get away with your anger. I’m not the one you’re angry with, and you know it, kiddo. If I did things in this way was because I thought it was the best for you, and you should be more grateful.”

“Oh, really? Why, exactly?” You can’t keep the words to you, you need to say it, you need to explode. “Thanks Crowley for ruining my life taking years from it when _I_ _murder_ people? Thanks Crowley for making a deal with me that will kill me and make a demon from me? Do you _REALLY_ think this is the _best_ for me?”

There is a sudden lightning and then Crowley is gone. You feel the tears burning in your cheeks but you don’t feel sorry. Not yet, at least. There are a lot of emotions in your chest right now and you can’t handle them all at once. You grab some strands of your hair and quick the chair in rage. Is not long time until your mother burst into your room. Great, the last thing you needed.

“What the hell is going on here? Why are you being so noisy at this time of the night?” She’s upset, obviously she was sleeping, but you don’t care.

“Because that’s always the problem with me, right? I’m always being noisy, annoying, a pain in the ass to you, isn’t it?” You yell at her, not afraid of showing your anger for once. “Why didn’t you drop me in an orphanage? I would have been better for both!”

“Shut up! You stupid little brat, you think you know everything? I sacrificed my young days to take care of you! Better be grateful!” She yells back and you choke on your laugh.

“Oh, please, you left me almost every weekend with a babysitter so you could go out with your friends. You’re barely aware of what I’m doing with my life, you just want to know enough to criticize me, and then you go back again to ignore me. Is not that I’m a disappointment, you are a disappointing mother!”

“I couldn’t do it alone! Your dad left me, if you don’t remember! And if I criticize you is because I want you to be the best you can be.”

“What kind of shitty excuse is that? Are you aware of what you’re saying?” You can’t believe she’s trying to get away with her guilt like that. It’s always everyone else’s fault, isn’t it? Never hers. Honestly, you’re tired of that. “I’m not surprised dad left you because you’re unable to do anything right.” You take all the letters you have lying on your bed and throw them to her. She tries to get them, confused, and takes a look to one of them. You see how her face changes, speechless, and looks at you again. “You thought I would never find out? Well, as always, you underestimate me.”

You’re leaving your room, but your mother seems she hasn’t finished yet. She doesn’t move, but still yelling to you.

“So you’re still blaming me even when you’ve read this? This is the proof that I did all I could! That he left me!”

“He left you because you’re CRAZY, mom!” you don’t stop your steps, you go downstairs and on your way to the door, you stop to say one last thing. “I hope you like this house because you’re going to die alone in here!”

You close the main door with a bang and you run to take your bike. You need to be far away from here, the most, the best. You don’t let the tears blur your view while you ride, don’t pay attention to the pain in your thighs due to the physical effort, you just ride through the empty streets for who knows how many until you arrive to your favorite place, the graveyard. You throw the bike at the entrance and you climb the wall, running line after line of graves until you’re exhausted and drop yourself against one big statue of an angel. Only then, when you’re staring at the dark sky under the embrace of the stone, you allow your tears to run down your cheeks. So many rage inside you needs to be free, and crying helps, but isn’t enough. You should have thought about bringing a jacket or something, because it’s cold and is not a long later when you start to shiver. You don’t want to go back to home, you don’t want to call Crowley, you can’t do anything else than remain there, trying to keep the warmth inside.

So, Derek Allen solves the mystery of who your dad is. Is strange, but it explains the way he treated you at the Halloween’s party, and why he invited you. Maybe now that his legitimate daughter is dead, he wants to check on his other one. You don’t know how to feel about him. You blame him in part for growing up the girl you most hate, you blame him for not giving a fuck about you until now, you blame him for leaving you with your mother, making your life a worthless waste of time. But also you can’t blame him for that. The signs your mother showed in the letters demonstrate clear signs of instability, and if he was already married, it didn’t make sense to ruin everything for someone like that. It’s a huge piece of crap that makes you wish you weren’t born.

Some minutes, probably half an hour, later, you hear the voices. At first you think you’re having hallucinations, but the voices are quite real, so you risk taking a look. Two men, leaned over a grave with shovels. Your heart twists, they’re probably dangerous, the last thing you want is them discovering you. Moments later, you remember a conversation from that morning, and you recognize who those men are. They’re the guys from the FBI, or fake FBI, or whatever. Vengeful spirit. That’s all what you remember. You’re curious about what they’re going to do, so, as silent as you can, you search for a place where you can get a better view from what they’re doing.

You recognize the grave. It’s Cindy’s. Your stomach twists when you remember she was your half sister, not because sadness, but revulsion for being related to someone that horrible. You wonder what they’re going to do when one of them starts to drop some liquid over the open coffin and the other one lights a match, dropping over it too. There is a huge fire and you stare at it with the mouth open, wondering what the fuck is happening, until they start to talk and move again.

“Should we burn the other one too? Just in case we burned the wrong one.” The taller one says.

“Yeah, I’m not planning coming back anytime soon. Let’s work.”

They move to another grave, you guess it’s Remy’s, so you take the chance to go back to the entrance and climb the wall back. You don’t want them near of you. It’s true you’ve not been discretion personified, but even you realize those two are going to be a problem if they notice you exist. You take your bad dropped away bike and, taking a last look back to be sure they hadn’t realize about you, you ride back to somewhere else.

Somewhere else ends up being the park, dark as wolf’s mouth at this time of the night. You drop your bike, this time gently, next to a bench in which one you decide to sit. You remember that, in that very same place, not long ago Crowley hugged you like nobody has done ever, pushing your fears away after that horrible party. You start to cry again, this time feeling sorry because the way you treated him before. Yeah, he knew about your father, but he tried you to find out by yourself, which is more than you could say about your mother. He gave you clues and you can’t blame him for that. You’ll have to apologize when he comes back… If he ever will. Why should he? After all what you said, the way you said it… Why would he want to know anything about you?

You’re screwed.

You’re alone and screwed.

You pushed away the only one who showed any affection to you… The only one who demonstrated to have any feelings for you. How could you have turned a beautiful night in something that horrible?

You don’t know how many time you spend there, crying in the dark, shivering of cold. The only thing you know is that, long after your tears dried, something warm is dropped over your shoulders, keeping you away from the cold. It takes you a moment to realize it’s a coat. A suit coat. You look at your side and you find Crowley sitting next to you, sad look on his face. You open your mouth, not knowing what to say, but you feel the urge to say something. He’s there, he’s right there after how bad you talked to him before. You need to say something.

“I…”

“Don’t” Crowley interrupts you, puts an arm over your shoulders and hugs you tight against his chest. The warm embrace surrounds you and you start to feel better. You grab his shirt and you let your troubles fly away.

You remain there some minutes more in silence. He strokes your head, leaving soft kisses from time to time. You don’t deserve this, but there he is, taking care of you like nobody else did it before. You’re a disaster as a human, but knowing that there is a future where you can be with Crowley, maybe you’ll do better as a demon.

“I’m sorry” you finally say in a whisper, because doesn’t matter what he says, you’ve been a douche with him when he didn’t deserve it.

“I know” he says. “I can feel you, remember?” He softly touches your chest, the spot where your heart beats under your skin. You’re one now, what you feel is what he feels, and you feel more sorry inside than what you could say with words. He knows it.

“What should I do now?” you ask, cleaning the new tears that run down your cheeks again. “I don’t want to go back there.”

“Is the safest place for you to be” he anwers.

“But she’s in there.” The last person you want to see in the near future is your mother, and going back home implies a new talk with her that won’t end better than the first one. “Why can’t I go with you?”

“Because it’s dangerous. I can’t risk your life in that way, I would not forgive myself if something happens to you.” You shrug but you know he’s right. You would be a nuisance being a human by his side. The best for him is being surrounded by demons, not by stupid teenage girls.  “I’ll come to see you as much as I can, I promise. And I can make her don’t remember anything about tonight.”

“That’s not the problem, the problem is that I do.”

“I can’t help with that, kiddo…”

“I don’t want you to” you answer. “Now I understand this is something I have to deal with, no matter if I want to or not.” He pats your head gently, like saying well done, you’re right, and that makes you feel a bit better. “I’ll just ignore her, as she always has done with me.”

Maybe is not the easiest thing, but is the only solution. For now. You start to get on your feet, still having Crowley’s coat over your shoulders. He does too, standing by your side. He still seems a bit sad but now that you look calmed, he looks better too.

“I’ll take you home then. Right to your room. You won’t have to face her if you don’t want to.”

“Perfect.”

And back again where all started. The letters are gone, so you guess your mother took all of them with her. You sight while you close the door, back against the wood and a nasty feeling on the throat. You hate this house.

You look at the demon, who looks embarrassed just for being there. You can’t blame him. Even when he knows you’re sorry, is not easy to forget what you said. And if half of what he said before was true, he isn’t having a good time dealing with his human feelings.

“You know I didn’t mean any of what I said, do you?” you say, looking at a particular shoe next to your bed that suddenly became really interesting.

“I do” he answers. His voice tone is different, like comprehensive, and when you dare to look at him, he’s smiling. “You should take some rest, kiddo, you have to go to class tomorrow.”

“Can you stay?” you ask, suddenly afraid. You don’t want to be alone tonight. You don’t want to be alone any night in your life. He looks at you, sighs and nods. “Thank you.”

“Well, kill me if there comes a day I say no to staying with you” he gives you a soft smile and you relax completely.

“I promise I won’t push you away again” you say. “You’re the best that happened to my life.”

“Ironical” he answers. “Because I will be the one who ends with it.”

You laugh, not scared about that ending anymore. If Crowley is waiting for you at the other side, it can’t be really bad. The demon sits on your bed starting to untie his shoes. With a smile, you join him on the mattress, pushing your boots away and barely keeping your eyes open. The last thing you feel before you fall asleep is the warm touch of Crowley’s body by your side, his arms surrounding you. A future without Crowley isn’t a real future.


	10. Are you gonna leave me

During the following days, you wonder how is possible that Crowley still is by your side. You’ve been selfish, you’ve been irrational and rude with him, and no matter what, Crowley always came back to you. After your last rage blast, when you found out about your real father, you decided that those blasts needed to end. You can’t make Crowley your target when you can’t control your feelings. His mood improved every new day, and he always was there for you when you went upstairs ready to go to bed, which also improved your mood too. You can’t explain how wonderful sleeping with someone else is. Someone you _love_. Is just… Like something that needed to happen. Every night you curl against Crowley’s side and every morning you try to delay the moment when he has to go, but the promise that he will come back again for the night is enough for you to let him go.

You’re still ignoring your mother. You avoid the possible encounters in the house, like going inside the kitchen to have some breakfast. You decided to have it in a café in your way to the high school instead. You have your lunch out of home too and at night you make sure your mother is watching TV or something to go to the kitchen and have some dinner, or just taking some food and going back to your room. She doesn’t make an effort to talk with you either, so that makes things a lot easier.

Except the fact that you officially don’t talk to your mother, seems that everything is slowly going back to normal. Again. The high school seems calmed down, of course, there are people who are still crying Roy’s death, but the routine is coming back. Sometimes, when you’re at your locker, you catch slices of conversations that make you smile, like how the high school is charmed, or the ghost of some nerd who died in there is torturing the new popular guys. They’re not far away from it, but is fun to hear it.

You’ve left the latin lessons so you don’t have to see Jason’s face any time soon, but he still stares at you for a while when you walk by the same corridor. He looks guilty, but he never says anything. Anyway, you have some witchcraft sessions with Crowley once or twice a week –things the book doesn’t say and quickly effective-, and if now you need to translate something from the book, you have him, so you don’t need to go to the lessons anymore.

With this new rutine, the weird FBI guys gone and really determined to keep your vengeance plan, you keep going for a month or so. You’re at the bathroom at the high school, combing again your hair because the rain has messed it and you have some minutes until the next class starts. You haven’t realized you’re not alone until the sound of sobs comes to you. At first you think you’ve imagined it, but the sobs sound again and it’s obvious that you didn’t. You wonder there for a while if you should ask or leave, but you don’t need to choose any because the toilet door opens and Becky comes out from it, her makeup messed by the tears and something grabbed in her hand which throws to the mirror fiercely almost hitting you in the way. She blinks and cleans her tears away and stares at you, obviously she didn’t realize you were there either. You stare at her too, confused, and then you look the thing she thrown to the mirror, which has fallen to the sink. It’s a pregnancy test. And it’s positive. You look back at her, surprised.

“What are you looking at?” she yells at you.

“So, you’re pregnant?” you ask, don’t raising your voice like she did.

“That’s not of your business!” She answers.

For a moment, you both remain in an awkward silence. You don’t know how to feel now about Becky. She’s always been mean to you like the others, but not as much as them during the last month. She’s desolated now, probably her popular status has just ended, because no popular pregnant girls remain popular for really long once they start to get fat. She’s going to be pushed aside, she knows it and she’s terrified about being alone. You know that feeling really well, and you probably shouldn’t do what you’re going to do, because it’s _Becky_ , but you know how it feels being alone, how she might be feeling, and call it empathy, but you feel that you _need_ to do it.

“Does the father know? Do you need someone to… talk to?” you say, lower voice, knowing how ridiculous you sound. The ironic laugh she gives to you doesn’t help, and you feel anything but hate for her again. Of course, she’s not going to accept help from someone like you.

“Roy is dead, what does that matter now? Move on, freak, you’re on the way”

When she leaves, she pushes you on purpose, because you weren’t that much on the way. So, Roy is the father. You don’t feel a bit sorry about it, Roy deserved what he got. Though, you think you’ve been a little help for Becky even when she doesn’t want to admit it. She didn’t need to tell you who the father was, and she did it anyway. Maybe just saying it out loud to someone whose opinion is not going to be noticed by anyone was the breathe she needed to take. Besides, she didn’t say “no” to the second question. She didn’t say anything about it, so that might be your answer.

For now, Becky is going to remain out from your list. Even you know when something isn’t coming to a good point, and torturing and killing a pregnant girl is too much. Crowley might be disappointed… Or not, who knows, with all that “human feelings” he’s experiencing. Besides, the end of her social life and reputation produces enough satisfaction to you. And if she’s back on being rude again, you can always find a way to humiliate her even more.

One by one, popular guys are falling like flies.

You go back to the corridor to go to your next class, but at the corner you trip over someone. You’re about to apologize, but the other person does it before and you recognize the voice before you can see who it is. It’s Jason. You swallow your apologize down your throat, you don’t want to waste breath in that. Obviously, you haven’t forgiven him yet. From all the people of the list, he’s the one who hurt you the most, and that isn’t something you can just let go.

“Alma, please” he says when he recognizes you. You’re about to leave but he grabs your arm, making you stay. “When are you going to allow me to _explain_?”

“Explain what exactly, Jason?” you answer, refusing to break down the wall you built between you two. “It’s obvious what you did. I don’t need you to remember me.”

“But you don’t understand, I _didn’t_ do anything. I didn’t know!”

“You know, I’m used to people making fun of me, saying cruel things, pranks… That hurts, I’m not gonna lie” you say. “But I thought you were my friend. Now I see the real you. Nobody would want to go to a party with me. Thanks for reminding me.”

The bell rings, and you move again to go to your classroom. Jason doesn’t stop you this time.

“That’s not true. I went to another party with you before, and I liked it, except for the fact that one girl died that night.”

You go away before the words settle in your head. When you finally understand what he said, you’re in class, going to your desk. He remembers the talk you two had at the Halloween party. It wasn’t a big talk, it wasn’t even an important talk, but he remembers. Shit. Why does he remember? You’re breathing heavily, you’re staring at your desk, not sure about sitting or running away from it. People is staring at you. You can hear the teacher’s voice calling you, but you’re not sure about what he’s saying.

You decide to take a deep breath and sit. You mentally count to ten, taking slow breaths, calming yourself down. The last thing you need now is having a panic attack in the middle of the classroom. Why do you know it’s a panic attack? Because you know how many feelings are involved, it’s just you decided to forget them, ignore them, lock them far away from you. You are sure about what you feel for Crowley, you really are, but when Jason is near is… Like a storm again, you like him, you hate him, you need him near, you need him away… A part of you wanted to believe that you could be a normal girl, having a normal date with a cute guy who really likes you. When the Carrie incident happened, you buried that part of you, blindly, you wanted to keep distances with him, but after some time passed, your defenses became weaker, and the way he has to talk to you… Is just… You just…

This needs to stop right now. Crowley, he’s the one who showed some respect to you, the motherfucking demon who is helping to take your revenge from those ones who make your life a real hell. Crowley is good for you, Crowley, who cared when you were alone, when you were a mess, when you were worthless…

You feel something wet on your hand, and then you realize there’s also on your cheek. You’ve started to cry silently. Hopefully, nobody noticed, so you dry your tears with your shirt. Is not time to show weakness.

You have the longest class in your whole life, and when it’s finally over, you go right to the girl’s bathroom again. You wash your face, which makes you calm down for a while. However, you still feeling sick, so you will wait there until everybody is in class again and you’ll leave the high school for today by the bathroom’s window. Seems like a plan. So bad you don’t get the chance to do it.

“Hey weirdo” Lily’s voice is right behind you. You turn and see her and Dawn. They probably are in their smoke break and they want the bathroom for them, so you’re an intruder there. “Leave.”

“Why?” something twist inside your stomach, but you’re tired of being their target. You’re not going anywhere if you don’t want to. They can go to smoke anywhere else if they want to be alone.

“Don’t make me say it twice” Lily takes a step forward. Behind her, Dawn is looking at you with a disgusted face.

“Then don’t do it” you reply. “But I’m not leaving. I need to use the bathroom.”

“Then use it and _leave_ ” Dawn says.

You curse to yourself mentally while you slowly walk to one of the toilets. The only thing you want to do is to go somewhere out of there, why is that so difficult?

You would have used the bathroom and left, really, but they needed to make things even more complicated. Dawn makes you trip and fall to the ground with that stupid pixie laugh she has. Lily is also laughing on your back and you hear her saying “Come on, we don’t have all the day.”

That’s it, you’re exploding. You’re not having the best of your days but you’re not going to fall to the ground and let them mock at you. The days in which you were the quiet loser were long gone. You mumble something while you start to get up.

“What did you say, freak?” Dawn asked.

“I said _BITCH_!” you yell and push her fiercely.

That makes both girls look at each other in surprise, but they last short to face you. Dawn holds you against the wall while Lily opens the toilet. You struggle to get free, but Dawn is stronger than she looks like, and even when you managed, somehow, to pull her hair, it was useless. Lily helps her to take and kneel you in front of the porcelain seat. You know what they’re going to do to you, and you groan and fight to get free, but two against one isn’t quite a fair fight.

“Let’s show you some respect, stupid whore” Lily says, forcing you to put your face inside the toilet and flushing it.

The water flows all over your face and you thank that the toilet at least was decently clean, even though it smells like rotten egg. When the water stops, you can take a breath, which doesn’t last long because Lily flush the toilet again. When it’s over again, you cough, fighting to breathe.

“Now what?” Lily asks, in anger. “Do you have anything to say?”

“Stop!” you exclaim, trying to get away. You’re starting to feel stupid. Why did you have to open your mouth?

“Wrong answer!”

Again, face against the toilet, and water on your face. Fighting to breathe, to not vomit, to get away from that, but the strength Lily and Dawn have is nothing you can fight against. You scream, begging them to stop, but not wanting to say sorry. They’re not going to get that from you.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” another voice comes to you above the stupid giggles from the two girls. For a moment, silence fills the room, and the only sound you can hear besides your own heartbeats is from the water dropping from your nose to the toilet.

“This isn’t with you, Jason. She deserves it” Lily says.

“Leave. Her. Alone.” Jason repeats, this time closer to where you are. You don’t dare to move, even to breathe. “Didn’t you have enough?”

You feel the loose of the strength where both girls were grabbing you. They are finally leaving you, so you dare to get your face out from the toilet, slowly, still with some fear that they will change their mind.

“So you like the weirdo now?” Lily says to Jason. He doesn’t answer to that, he simply steps forward and stands by your side, waiting for both girls to leave. “Have you forgotten who your friends are?”

“I just realized who they really are” he says.

You can hear Lily laughing skeptically, but nothing else until the door closes again, so you guess they have left. Only then you dare to look up. Jason is still there, next to you, but you didn’t realize he kneeled until now. He puts a gentle hand on your back in a worried gesture.

“Are you ok?” he asks.

As a response, you lean over the toilet and start to throw up. After a couple of times, you feel better. He makes sure you can clean yourself with some paper and doesn’t say anything about it, which only makes it better. You both remain there for a while in complete silence, you because you’re still recovering and him because he wants to give you some space –or that’s what you guess.

“Thank you” you say, unable to look anywhere but the wet floor.

“What else was I supposed to do?” he answers, shrugging. “I heard you scream from the corridor, I had to get in.”

That isn’t supposed to make you feel bad, but it does. You were so rude to him before, and he just… You burst into tears suddenly. You don’t want to, but you do. You hate everything, you hate Lily, you hate Dawn, you hate Becky, you hate the teachers, you hate Mr. Allen, you hate your mother, you hate yourself, you hate Jason… No. That’s the point. You _can’t_ hate Jason, and that only makes you hate yourself even more. You were supposed to have clear feelings, damn. The guy pulls you against him and hugs you, and there you are, both sitting in a stinky bathroom, you still wet and trembling, and he seems to not care at all about anything else.

When you’re finally calm, Jason helps you to get up and walk to the sink. Again, you wash your face, but this time doesn’t feel as pleasurable as it felt before the incident. You try to fix somehow your hair, messy and wet, and when there’s nothing else that helps you to avoid that moment, you look at Jason’s face.

“Sorry about that” you say in a low whisper referring to the entire crying thing.

“Don’t” he replies. “I’m sorry. I should have done something about what happened in New Year’s…”

Again, silence. Is not like an awkward silence, is just that you don’t know what to say, or to do. You were planning to go back home, and that’s still your intention, but you don’t want to leave if he’s still there.

“You’re going to be late…” you say.

“So you are” he replies and shrugs. “You’re not going, are you?”

“No” you admit, smiling sadly.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he grabs his backpack, which was next to the door, and opens the window for you. “Before anyone notices, go. I will follow you.”

“Are you really going to miss your classes?” you ask while you put yourself through the window.

“Are you really thinking I’m going to leave you alone?” he asks back, a silly grin in his face when he follows you outside. That warms your heart and you smile him back. “Come on, let’s pick the bikes and go somewhere nice.”

When he offers his hand to you, you feel guilty suddenly. You know what that simple gesture means to you, and keeping in mind how you felt about Jason before… It makes you think about how this may affect your other relationship, the one that’s hidden, the one that nobody knows about. You take Jason’s hand, but you’re still not sure at all. It isn’t until Jason pulls you with him, forcing you to move, to keep walking, when you start to be confident again. It just feels so good when you don’t have to walk alone.

You go where the bikes are parked and once you’ve take them you leave the high school entirely. Since it’s still soon for a lunch, you both decide to just walk carrying the bikes to nowhere in particular. You arrive to the park that is half way to your house and decide to just lay on the grass. You try to ignore the fact that it was just some months ago when Crowley found you there, all dirty and anxious, and even less time ago when you found out about your father and ran until you arrived there. Jason tries to talk about common topics, probably an effort to make you feel better keeping your mind away from what happened before. You thank the try, but there are already other things that keep your mind busy.

There are few people who cross the park, but still enough to start to play the “where does that person go” game. An old woman was going to the market to buy some food so she could cook a good lunch for her husband. Then a young girl was going to a date with her college professor. Another one was going to pick her baby from the kindergarten. It was fun, just relaxing and having finally a nice time with someone like a normal girl. But of course, fun was not made for you. When Jason was trying to figure out the story from the new mature man that was walking now through the park, you feel like your heart just stopped. You know that man.

Your own father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so so so so sorry. I know I left this quite abandoned, but I was just not on the mood to keep writing. I was busy af and trying to recover from a little breakdown I had, and then I was just delaying and delaying because I had another breakdown from which one I'm still not recovered at all yet, and I don't know when I will be. Is not fun for me to have panic attacks this often, but I try to do my best. However, I will try to keep writing and, when it comes the day, finish the story propperly how I planned the day I started to write it.
> 
> Thanks to all of you who kept waiting. I love you all.


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